FateStay Night: Unlimited Boob Works
by Ammaranthe
Summary: Winning the Holy Grail War took a terrible toll on each of the participants - especially Illya. As a Hero Of Justice in training, Shiro is determined to help. But when he tries putting the power of Bladeworks to a use for a new purpose, it has some unexpectedly large results!
1. Chapter 1

**Fate/Stay Night: Unlimited Boob Works**

 _A fan fiction by Ammaranth_

"Illya . . . are you sure you want to do this?"

"It's okay big brother, I trust you."

Shiro Emiya took a deep breath, then spoke the words that had come to define his existence.

"Trace on . . ."

* * *

Rin slid the door closed behind her, then turned to the waiting Shiro and Saber.

"She's dying."

"How can you just say it like that!?"

"It isn't as though I don't care! An Einzbern homunculus isn't meant to last more than a few years. It's a wonder she's been able to live this long. Illya's half human, but she's still also half homunculus. And the homunculus part of her is coming to an end."

". . ."

"Look, Shiro – you've already done so much for her. You took her in, and made sure her last days have been happy ones – probably the happiest ones in her life. I can't imagine what it must have been like to grow up in the Einzbern Castle . . ."

Rin's voice trailed off as she glanced out past the verandah to the openness of the courtyard beyond, reflecting on what it was like to grow up as a mage in the Tohsaka family, and the secret envy she nursed for Shiro's own upbringing.

"You've already done more than most people would."

"Especially for a former enemy", Saber added gently.

". . ."

Rin squinted at him.

"Uh – oh, I know that look –"

". . ."

"It's that look you get when you're about to do something stupid –"

"I can't accept it."

"You don't have a choice!"

"I won't accept it!"

"And why not! Why can't you ever just accept that you're a good person, that you've done all you can, and that's all – why can't that be the end of it!?"

"I can't accept Illya dying!"

"You are so stubborn!"

"Big brother . . ." Illya called faintly from the other room.

"Oh fine!" Rin hissed in a shouted whisper. "Be that way!"

* * *

And so it was that Shiro and Illya found themselves sitting in the living room of the Emiya house. They had taken two chairs and arranged them together so that Illya sat facing the back of one, while Shiro sat behind her with his arms around her waist. Even though her body was cold, her skin was surprisingly warm to the touch. She had originally offered to take off her shirt, but he had assured her that wasn't necessary.

"If you say so, big brother."

In spite of Illya's words, the two of them were not actually related by blood. It had never been any secret that Shiro was adopted. His father had taken him in when he was ten years old, after his parents died in the disaster that he would later learn was the aftermath of the Fourth Holy Grail War.

He was a very open man, Kiritsugu Emiya, even about things that others would usually keep secret, such as being a mage – and he had showed what Rin considered a shocking disregard for his son's lack of progress in his magical studies. But he'd never said anything about having a daughter. Shiro hadn't found that out until the Fifth Holy Grail War had begun.

"The way I see it, Father couldn't wait for me, so he left you behind to take his place," Illya had said very matter of factly. "So that just means you'll have to take care of me forever."

And so Illya called him big brother, which Shiro did not like, which she was quick to pick up on, and so used the words at every available opportunity – especially in public.

"Don't worry big brother, what's the worst that could happen? If you mess up, I'll die – but then again, I'm going to die anyway."

With this doubtful assurance, Shiro uttered the words,

"Trace on –"

At once he felt a series of green lines fan out through his entire existence. They were the pathways of his magic circuit.

"Mage families spend a tremendous amount of time developing and guarding their lineage", Rin had explained, "All so that they can pass on their crest and magic circuits to the next generation."

It seemed a strangely practical way to describe something so arcane and mysterious, but to Shiro, who was used to fixing things like heaters and other household appliances, it made perfect sense. Illya, however, was much more complicated than a toaster.

"Tracing basic structure –"

The pathways of Illya's magic circuits opened up before him like a maze.

"That girl isn't so much a person with a series of magic circuits as a group of magic circuits with a little bit of a person around them", Rin had said.

Her description was true.

Shiro, as a novice, had his magic circuits mostly concentrated in one arm, while Rin's, as a trained disciple of one of the great mage families, were peppered throughout both of her arms and legs. But Illya's ran throughout her entire body.

The arrangement wasn't natural. Being half homunculus, the Einzbern family had felt no hesitation about tinkering with her design. From an early age, she'd had additional circuits from various donors grafted in to augment her own already considerable abilities – all for the sake of winning the Holy Grail War.

The process had been excruciating, but the dividends it paid in terms of sheer magical power were enormous. And for their present purpose, it had other benefits. The pathways of Illya's circuits were large, and easy to follow. The only problem was that there were so many of them he had to be careful he didn't get lost.

"Tracing component materials –"

He traced her skin, so pale and white, then moved deeper, into the connective tissues, marveling at the way that a single strand from her face carried on in an unbroken line, down her neck, past her shoulders, and throughout her body, all the way to the tips of her toes.

"That tickles –"

From here he moved on to her muscles – how small they were – and totally devoid of any tension.

"How can she relax at a time like this?"

Such was the peace of mind of one who had spent her entire life preparing for the Holy Grail War.

He felt the places where her muscles attached to her bones, which he found to be very thin and delicate, then changed over to listen to her breathing. He could feel the air rushing into her lungs, mingling with her blood before it travelled out, following the path of her arteries, then back again through her veins like a wave, all the way to her beating heart.

For a moment it seemed to pulse between his hands, her life passing through them with each beat.

Illya snuggled down and pressed her back against him.

He traced the course of her nerves, out to where they tingled in the tips of her fingers, then up, into her brain, where he felt the gaps between their synapses, whose chemical crossings made up the junctures in the pathways of her mind.

With a start he realized he could see her thoughts.

At the moment she was remembering a scene from when she was a much younger girl, playing with their father Kiritsugu in the snow.

"I'm sorry, Illya. I didn't mean to –"

"It's okay. I don't mind."

She answered him without speaking, and he realized she could hear him, and that maybe she could see his thoughts, too.

"I guess it's only fair . . ."

So many systems.

He made a quick search of some of the less savory ones. He could feel her digesting – evidently that pastry from the takoyaki stand had given her a bit of a stomach ache – and the motion of her kidneys filtering her blood, as well as the impatience of her bladder.

"I told her not to have that cup of tea before we started –"

And then there were other places.

"I'm sorry Illya", Shiro thought again. "But I have to be thorough. I can't leave anything out. It would be too dangerous."

Illya looked at him through the lashes of her half closed eyes as she glanced over her shoulder.

Shiro felt his own heart skip a beat.

Diving further still, his tracing became like a microscope as he moved down – down – all the way to the cellular level. A sudden thrill went through him as he realized he could go even farther. Who knew what the limits were to this power? He might see atoms, witnessing the motion of electrons in orbit, like planets around a star, or finally prove or disprove the quark theory. With this excitement there came a fear – the gulf that opened up below him seemed bottomless.

If the universe were expanding – infinitely vast – who was to say that it wasn't also contracting – infinitely small? Like a line spreading out in both directions, it could go on forever. Shiro was filled with a wild terror that if he started down this path, it would never end.

As exciting – and frightening – as this was, his business was elsewhere.

Looking past the nucleus, with its libraries of all the things that made Illya Illya, he searched one of the cells, ignoring the cytoplasm and the endoplasmic whatever-or-other whose names he couldn't remember because he'd fallen asleep that day in class after staying up all night in his workshop. He searched until he found what he wanted.

Floating off by itself, the little purple structure was shaped vaguely like a kidney bean.

"The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell!" his textbook had cheerfully announced, the caption accompanied by a series of pictures purporting to show how the cellular structure worked.

Shiro remembered reading how the inside was filled with a series of inner walls that wound back and forth, giving more surface area for the chemical reactions to work on. Looking inside, he was surprised to find that it was true – the inner walls wove back and forth like a tiny maze – not unlike the pathways of a magic circuit . . .

He also remembered reading in the pages of a science journal he'd been looking at for a research paper that the mitochondria had their own strands of DNA, and that some recent findings suggested that they might be the key to determining the aging process.

"This is it – if there's something killing the homunculus half of Illya, some sort of 'clock' that has an expiration date – it has to be here", he thought, stretching out his arm.

"Trace on!"

* * *

"Shiro, saving one person generally means not saving someone else . . ."

"Dad?"

All around him the night air was chill, a sharp contrast with the heat of the flames, which sizzled every now and then from the sprinkling of the rain.

"Just one – please let me save just one –"

Kiritsugu's voice echoed against the rippling of the flames.

"Was this how you felt?"

"He's alive! Oh thank God he's alive!"

He looked – happy. So very happy.

"I can't die like this! I haven't even saved one person yet –"

His own words when Lancer's spear had pierced his heart.

"Oh no! Not you! Of all nights, why did you have to be here now? Why did it have to be you?"

"Tohsaka?"

Rin sounded like she was crying. Suddenly he heard her voice again, much calmer now, as he remembered a conversation they'd had just the day before.

"The first thing we'll have to do is call the local temple. Your friend lives at Ryudo – or if she wants a foreign funeral, we can contact Kotomine. That's what we did when –"

A pained look came over Rin's face.

"Anyhow, I don't think we should rely too much on those Einzbern homunculus. When the time comes, we had better be ready to deal with it ourselves."

"I can't be angry with Tohsaka", Shiro thought. "She's always there for me, and she's only trying to help."

The pamphlet Rin had left with him listed several options for services in different styles. There were no prices – that would have been vulgar. But it did list approximate wait times at the crematorium based on age – an hour and a half for an adult, 30 minutes for an infant, 45 for a child. How long would Illya take?

"She's so small –"

"Do you think we should have her in a kimono?" Rin had asked. "Or maybe her white dress? There's her purple coat, and she could be wearing her hat – or we could put it under her head, like a pillow –"

The thought of Illya bundled up as protection against the heat of the flames made him gag.

"SCREW THIS!"

* * *

All around him the landscape changed. Strange, yet familiar, the sky grew dark as a series of gears descended from the low hanging clouds, the inner workings of an unknown mind. A lonely hilltop stretched away into the distance. And everywhere – everywhere, there were swords. Stuck point down in the ground, they had hilts of every imaginable shape and variety. Some had guards that ran straight across, while others swept down; some were plain, while others bore rings, or curved knuckle bows to protect the hand. They ran up the hill, steepling its sides like a thousand church spires, casting long shadows like the crosses in a foreign cemetery.

"Blade Works . . ."

Amidst all their anonymity, Shiro saw several patterns he recognized – the blue and gold luster of a sword from a certain legend – the graceful sweep of a katana renowned for its ability to perform a swallow tail strike – and off to the side, a familiar pair of crossed blades, one white, one black, short and curved, meant to be wielded with one in each hand . . .

"I see you've learned to summon it at will."

Shiro turned to face the silver haired ghost who addressed him.

For a moment he and the man in the red coat regarded one another in silence.

"Out on another pointless crusade?"

Shiro turned to the side and glowered.

"I didn't come here to be lectured by the likes of you –"

"But you DID come here . . ."

Shiro sighed.

"Shiro Emiya", Archer said, his voice growing suddenly stern. "I've told you before: you are not one who fights. You are one who creates. When confronted with an enemy more powerful than yourself, you must imagine something that will allow you to overcome it."

"Yeah, I know . . ." Shiro said. He'd heard all of this before, and was in no mood for Archer's condescending arrogance. But still, there was something in his words that he couldn't quite ignore.

"Something that will allow me to overcome the thing that's killing Illya . . ."

A sudden realization came into his eyes.

"That's it!" he shouted, rolling up his sleeve to reveal the green lines of his magic circuit glowing along his arm.

"Trace on!"

* * *

"It has to be here!" Shiro shouted.

But what would it even look like?

"Probably something in her DNA", he thought, narrowing his focus to the peculiar little double helix. "Adenine – guanine – cytosine – I can't read this ! I need something simpler – a date, or a calendar, or –"

Suddenly a shape floated up before his eyes. Its lines were so familiar, so mundane, that under other circumstances it would have been laughable.

A round face, set with a dozen numerals, and a pair of hands, the longer of the two pointing to the Roman number X, while the shorter was only an inch away from twelve.

It was ten minutes to midnight.

"A – clock . . ?" Shiro asked, clearly exasperated. For a moment he stared in disbelief. And then he began to laugh.

"This is what I can't stand about 'magic' – it never makes any sense! If we're going to be all modern, with circuits and pathways and stuff, then why on earth would it have to be an old analog clock? Couldn't it at least be a digital one?"

Archer sighed.

"Kids these days – always wanting everything handed to them. A digital clock wouldn't work. There wouldn't be any place to put your hands."

"Place to put my –"

Shiro's eyes travelled to the clock face, as the minute hand ticked one notch closer, bringing the time to 11:51.

"Oh!"

Rushing over, he took hold of the two arms.

It was as if he had picked up a sky scraper.

"UGGHHH!", he groaned at the sudden weight. How could one small life be so heavy?

Setting his feet against the IV that in the peculiar old alphabet marked the four, he walked backwards, up the curved inner wall to the three, and pushed with all his might.

As if to answer, the clock ticked again, moving another minute closer.

"AUGGGHHHH!"

Shiro screamed as his spine was compressed. But his own pain was the least of his worries. Somehow he knew, without being told, he just simply knew that at midnight, when the two hands met, Illya's life would end.

"No . . ."

Kiritsugu's voice fluttered up to him from somewhere far away.

"That's the thing about being a 'hero of justice'", he said sadly. "No matter how hard you try, in the end you can only save the people from your own side –"

Did saving Illya mean that someone else had to die?

"No –"

Did Illya have to die so that someone else could live?"

"No!"

Someone like Sakura? Or Tohsaka?

"I'm not playing your game!"

The clock ticked another inch closer to midnight.

"TRACE ON!"

A green wave swept over the round face, tracing the arms, the numbers, the gears inside – everything.

"There has to be some weakness –"

As if to mock him, the arm moved again, slicing into his hands.

Only five minutes left.

Shiro's hands pulled away, now slick with his own blood.

The clock remained as it was, motionless.

It was the lack of motion that made him pause.

"That's it!"

Archer looked over, curious at his sudden enthusiasm.

"The long arm doesn't move incrementally", he said, changing the position of his hands and feet, not caring about his wounds. "That's all done by the gears inside. They're the ones keeping track. The long hand only moves once each minute, to record the new time –"

And here Shiro began to pull –

"Illya dies at midnight", he growled through clenched teeth. "But what if the hand never stops at twelve?"

"Damn you're stubborn –" Archer said, setting his hands on the other side as he began to help him push.

"Her homunculus half doesn't exist after twelve. From that point on she's just a regular girl –"

The minute hand began to move –

"I haven't – given up – on saving everyone –"

Shiro could feel his back decompress, and his muscles tearing inside of him, but he didn't stop.

By now, the Blade Works had disappeared around him, with its gears and swords, replaced by the wreckage from that night, and the roaring flames.

"But maybe –"

The clock's hands drew even with twelve.

"Just for tonight –"

Shiro pulled with all his might, not caring if he tore a hole in the universe and uncreated half of the world in the process.

"I'll settle for just one!"

The minute hand surged forward: 12:01 – 12:02 – 12:03 –

Illya cried out.

"Ugh – Shiro, you're –"

* * *

Suddenly he became aware of his surroundings again – the room, the chairs, Illya in his arms. She was sitting with her back to him, his arms around her waist. His hands were filled with a gentle warmth. Something seemed to pour into them. The sensation was like nothing he'd ever known – almost liquid, but not quite, as though he were holding two bundles of melting silk.

But it was the softness that stood out to him the most. Never in his life had he felt anything like it. Everywhere he touched was impossibly soft and warm, all except for two hardened points right in the middle.

With a start he realized that he was holding Illya's breasts!

"Um, Illya, I –"

Illya turned to look at him, then just as quickly turned her eyes to look away again.

"E – e – e . . ."

"Why am I holding Illya's boobs!?" he thought to himself, desperately trying to understand the situation. "And how did they get so big!?"

For that matter, everything about Illya had grown – she was several inches taller, her hair was several inches longer – her breasts were several cup sizes larger –

"Of course!" he thought, "The clock! When I pulled the hands past midnight, time moved forward, and Illya moved forward with it!"

Was this what Illya looked like in the future? He didn't have much time to wonder, because before he could think any further into it, he felt the two hardened points again, digging impatiently into each of his hands.

"Hey, why are your –"

"Look, it's cold in here –" she lied.

What should he do? Should he let go? Or would that be rude, as if to imply that he did not want to touch them? Perhaps he should give them a good squeeze –

Just then they heard the sounds of a key turning in the lock.

"Oh Shiro, we're home –"

"It's good to see you Master –"

Rin and Saber stopped dead in their tracks.

Illya giggled nervously.

"Eh – heh – heh – heh . . ."

She moved to pull away from him, but as she burrowed her back into his chest, she realized that with her shirt hiked up, if he let go, she'd be completely exposed, so she leaned forward again, but that only pushed her breasts even further into his hands.

"Ohh –" Shiro groaned, feeling a sudden weight as Illya's breasts grew heavy, hanging away from her chest and coming to rest more fully in his hands.

"Lady Tohsaka, please draw a magic circle. I'm going to kill Shiro, after which I will find myself in need of a new pact –"

"Saber, wait, I can –"

"EX –"

Saber shouted, beginning to summon her noble phantasm, but Rin laid her hand on her arm.

"Now, now Saber, let's not be too hasty. I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation for this – right Shiro?" she said, turning to him with a smile that was far more terrifying than Saber's attack.

* * *

"Mmm hmm, mmm hmm – that explains it", Rin said, after Shiro had finished speaking. "That's sounds like something stupid enough that you would do. Illya appears to be unhurt –" she said, her voice trailing off as she glanced over to where Illya stood in one of Shiro's white shirts with blue sleeves, poking the side of her breast and chuckling at the ripples it produced.

"Are you satisfied, Saber?"

Saber folded her arms and turned to the side.

"Well, Irisviel was very well endowed, so I guess it's only natural, what with Illya being her daughter . . ." she said, her voice still a bit sour.

"Yes, well, I suppose it can't be helped. Court adjourned. Our prisoner is dismissed."

"Whew –"

"You should count yourself quite lucky. If I didn't like your explanation, I was going to let Saber kill you, and then dispose of whatever was left by throwing it down into the training room in the Matou family basement –"

"Urk!"

"As it is, I'm actually rather impressed."

"What do you mean?"

"It's time magic", Rin said, clapping her hands behind her back as she looked out one of the windows into the open courtyard of the Emiya family estate.

Saber gasped.

"That's what Kiritsugu used – he had the ability to speed up and slow down time."

"It's very dangerous – you could have been killed."

Rin squinted at Shiro out of one eye.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something wrong with my face!?"

"For a second rate mage who keeps telling everyone that strengthening magic is all he can do, you certainly do have a lot of abilities. I'll remember that the next time we duel . . ."

"Wait – we're going to have another duel!? I thought we were past all that!"

"But of course", Rin smiled, raising her sleeve to reveal the glowing green lines of the magic circuits in her arm. "It's what we mages do."

"Urk!" Shiro said, once again in fear for his life.

"But perhaps another time", Rin answered, rolling down her sleeve, and sticking out her tongue.

"For now, I'm going to take Miss Illyasviel shopping, since she seems to be in need of some new clothes.

'Come along Illya – I know of several boutiques where you should be able to get everything you need. We'll pick up dinner on the way home, since I doubt after all that's happened any of us are going to feel much like cooking."

* * *

"Whew – " Shiro sighed after the door had shut. He heard the sounds of Illya's sing song voice as she skipped away into the distance with Rin trailing behind, admonishing her.

It was then that he felt a familiar pair of glaring green eyes boring a pair of matching holes directly into him.

"Look, Saber –" he began, but as he turned to face her he was taken aback by the sternness of her expression.

"Yikes! She's really mad about this –" he thought, trying to figure some way out of the situation. In the end, he decided it was best to simply be honest.

"Look, I – I'm sorry . . . I shouldn't have done anything without talking to you first. Tohsaka's right – it could have been dangerous. The Holy Grail War may be over, but you're still my strategist, and my partner. It was dumb for me to go off on my own, and I'm sorry . . ."

"I'll forgive you – on one condition."

"Sure, anything!"

Saber put her fingers to her chest, just under her chin, and turned away shyly.

". . . . ."

"What's that?"

"M . . . m . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "

"Saber, I can't understand you –"

"I said, MAKE MINE BIGGER THAN ILLYA'S !"

"What – wait – Saber, no! I can't just – there are things that go into this – like genetics!"

"I DON'T CARE!" Saber shouted, already unbuttoning her shirt.

Shiro reached to stop her, but she grabbed his hand, pulling his arm over her shoulder as she turned her back to him.

"Ack!" Shiro groaned, pulling back with all his might to avoid being judo flipped over her shoulder as she clamped his hand onto her breast.

He could feel the soft lace of her bra, its floral texture rough in comparison to her even softer skin –

And then, for the second time, he heard the sounds of a key turning in the lock.

"Oh Shiii – rooo, I'm hooome", Rin called, unable to say exactly why she took such peculiar delight in the words as she leaned against the door, a plastic bag of Styrofoam containers dangling from one hand as she reached down to remove her shoes with the other.

"It was later than I realized and the stores were all closed, so Illya and I decided to just get dinner and try again tomorrow. I hope you don't mind ramen –"

At the sight of Shiro and Saber together, Rin froze.

"Okay, now I'm pissed!" she shouted, throwing her brown school loafer with deadly precision so that it struck Shiro full force in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

"Oofh!"

"What the hell were you thinking!?"

"Look Rin, I can –"

"And after I gave you my most precious jewel!"

Saber's ears perked up.

"Most precious jewel!? WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING WITH LADY TOHSAKA !?"

"No, Saber, I –"

"EX –" Saber called, her magic sword appearing in her hands.

"Rin – you've got to help me –"

Shiro turned to Tohsaka only to find her pulling out a handful of her explosive magic gems.

"CAL –"

Saber continued her incantations, a whirlwind forming around the blade.

Desperate, Shiro held up his arm.

"TRACE ON!"

* * *

 ** _Omake_**

Narrator: Hi, my name is Kirei Kotomine, and in addition to being the priest who oversees the Holy Grail Wars, due to a series of strange events and a large debt incurred at the local curry shop, I'm also the narrator for this show – what's that? We're on?

Ahem – next time on Fate, Stay Night: Copping A Heaven's Feel – wait, what? Really!? You REALLY expect me to say that!? That does it – I quit! I'm going back to the agency and getting a new narrating gig – maybe something with some frogs, or a nice World War II period piece about some magical girls who fly around fighting aliens while not wearing any pants.


	2. Chapter 2 - Copping A Heaven's Feel

Chapter 2 – "Copping A Heaven's Feel"

Illya looked down, studying the blue lines of Shiro's shirt. She'd bought several new changes of clothes since everything had happened, but she still continued to stubbornly wear the top Shiro had leant her – much to Saber's annoyance.

"Oh come on, you've had those things for two weeks already – you have to be used to them by now!"

Apparently Saber wasn't the only one who was irritated. Turning, she regarded Tohsaka's outburst.

Rin could perhaps be forgiven. She had been the one who'd taken Illya shopping, and they'd visited six different stores, with Illya always making a beeline for the tops or blouses with the most flattering bust line, which she herself could only dream of wearing.

"Ugh – so expensive", Illya had groaned, looking at the price of a brassiere.

If there was one down side to her recent growth spurt, it was that she found that as one's bust size went up, the price of undergarments seemed to go up exponentially, while the range of available styles and patterns seemed to decrease with an inverse proportionality.

"Well, there you have it, Miss Illyasviel", Rin said smugly. "If there's one thing we can count on, it's that whatever your age or body type, it is undeniably expensive to be a girl."

"Can't they at least come in some cuter colors or patterns?"

"Oh good grief! What do you want – underoos!?"

Illya did not appreciate the remark, and retaliated by reaching for a white lace thong that looked like it would have been right at home on a honeymoon.

"Ah, there, these should do nicely –"

"Oh, whatever! What would you even need those for anyway!?"

Rin answered defiantly, but Illya had made her point. For all those years she'd spent trapped in her diminutive form, clearly she'd been nursing the sensibilities of a woman.

It was not that Rin had anything against cute panties. She just preferred a more practical approach. Being a mage was a serious business – and one that left little time or budget for frilly knickers. She wasn't as Spartan as Saber, and even she could concede that few small additions – a few tasteful bows, or a little patch of lace – were not out of place.

She even had one pair of black, rather racy ones that she kept as part of a hope chest of sorts, though it was not like she had anyone to be hopeful for – at least, not yet.

'I mean, Shiro's an idiot', Rin thought to herself.

"Wait! Why am I thinking of Emiya!?"

"What's that?" Illya asked?

"Oh, nothing!"

* * *

"It isn't that . . ." Illya said, looking down again, as she took her finger and traced the line where the edge of the blue set in sleeves joined the white body of the shirt – though she did take a moment to jab her finger into the side of her breast and watch it jiggle – which made Rin's eye twitch.

"It's just that Shiro is so . . . symmetrical."

"He's predictable!" Saber said, folding her arms and tossing her head to the side. "A bad habit in combat."

"B – o – o – rring!" Rin added, throwing her hands up over her heard and stretching her back. "I mean, you hardly even need to talk to him – because for anything you ask, you already know what he is going to say –"

"Oh yeah – well – I think that's what so great about him! Shiro's dependable – you can count on him to always do whatever he thinks is right, no matter what anyone else has to say – and he's kind – so, I – uh . . ."

Sakura's voice trailed off, as she suddenly realized that Rin, Saber, and Illya were all staring at her.

"Ah, that's right", Rin said. She'd been surprised by Sakura's sudden outburst, but quickly regained the offensive.

"I completely forgot that Miss Matou here can be very vocal about her feelings at times – especially when Emiya is involved."

"F – f – f – feelings!? Emiya!?"

They were still squabbling when they heard the sounds of a key turning in the lock.

"Hey everyone, I'm home!" Shiro called from the hall.

"Welcome home – "

"Welcome home –"

Rin and Sakura shouted in unison before turning to stare at one another sourly.

"Welcome home, Master", Saber said with great deference. She drew herself up with her back perfectly straight and her knees pressed modestly together, then bent forward, placing her fingertips on the mat before her, making a bow whose perfect grace and elegance made it clear that she'd been practicing, no doubt in secret while the others were away at school.

Illya glared at her coldly, her own weak "Welcome home, big brother", seeming to fall rather flat, and she resolved that next time she would break out the big guns and greet Shiro wearing an apron – and nothing else.

"Busy saving the world with housework again, I see?" Rin teased.

"I'm sorry I'm late. Work ran long, and I –"

Shiro's voice trailed off at the sight of the banner hanging over the back wall of the room.

"Happy One Year Anniversary . . ?"

Rin covered her mouth with her fist and made a small, dignified cough.

"Ahem. Ladies and Gentleman – I guess Shiro counts – may I have your attention please? The First Annual Reunion For Survivors of the Fifth Holy Grail War is hearby in session!"

"Reunion? Grail War? Wait – annual? You mean we're going to do this every year!?"

Rin beamed good naturedly.

"Mmm hmm – I thought it might be nice to get everyone together again to celebrate Illya's recovery. And besides, it gives us an excuse to make Shiro cook for us – "

"Um – I don't mind helping with the cooking – " Sakura said timidly. "It's not fair to make Shiro do everything."

"Oh, Sakura, my dear, Shiro here is a masochist. Left up to his own devices, he wouldn't know what to do – he needs a firm hand. Now get in the kitchen and whip something up for us!" Rin said, turning to Shiro and tossing him the apron that Sakura had been holding (and hoping that no one would notice that she had been sniffing.)

"Eek!" she cried as Shiro caught the apron with one hand.

"Yes ma'am!"

* * *

"Not that I mind", Shiro said, using a hand towel to dry one of the bowels as he tidied up after dinner, "but how on earth did you guys get this past Miss Taiga? I mean, isn't the Grail War supposed to be secret? What if she found out – you wouldn't actually kill her would you?"

Rin closed her eyes and smiled good naturedly – a little too good naturedly.

"Would you!?"

"Okay, kids!" Taiga called from the hall as she put on her helmet. "Have fun with your game! At least you're doing something that engages your minds. We should try something like this in class – maybe for this year's school festival!"

Shiro stared at her, dumbfounded, as she adjusted her chin strap.

"Alright now, I'm trusting you! I believe this is what they call a system of checks and balances. I have to leave early because I have papers to grade – with all of you here to fight over poor Shiro, I trust that nothing will actually happen – but if I come back tomorrow and find that you've all killed each other and I have to resign, I'm going to be seriously pissed – got it?"

"Yes ma'am!" they all shouted in unison. All except for Shiro, who was still standing, and still looking dumbfounded, as Rin listened to the sounds of Taiga's moped fade away into the distance.

"There, that should about do it – now we can get down to business!"

"Business?" Shiro asked.

For an answer, Rin went over to the ice box. Reaching inside, she retrieved a chilled bottle with a very fancy looking foil wrapper.

"Wait, is that champagne!?"

Without a word, she took out five glasses, then popped the cork and began filling them one by one.

"Where did you get that!?"

"From a friend", Rin said. She gave one to Illya, then one to Saber, and one to Sakura as well.

Vainly Shiro looked around for some sort of help, but Illya accepted her glass without so much as batting an eyelash, while Saber remained as stern and stoic as ever. Even the usually timid Sakura took her glass without a hint of hesitation.

"I guess it makes sense", Shiro thought to himself. "Illya's from a western family, so she's probably used to the idea of having wine with dinner, and Saber probably drank a ton of mead back in the Middle Ages – but come on, Sakura, you too?"

"Thank you", Sakura said shyly.

"Here you go", Rin said, handing him his glass and tapping it with hers. "Bottoms up!"

Shiro stared nervously at the foaming liquid.

"Oh man", he thought, "I don't want to do anything stupid or embarrassing – I hope I can keep up!"

"You're supposed to drink it, you know –"

Cringing, Shiro closed his eyes and took a sip.

"Wait a minute", he thought, "this is –"

" – Grape juice!" Shiro sputtered as Rin closed one eye and stuck out her tongue.

"I should have told you", she said between fits of giggles, "but you looked so serious, I just couldn't resist –"

"Very funny . . ." Shiro scowled while Rin held her side and laughed, but in the end he couldn't be angry with her.

"Tohsaka rarely laughs like this. It's good to see her happy."

"Mmpfh – I can barely stop to take a sip –"

"She's so elegant . . ." he thought, noticing the way her fingers wrapped around the slender stem of the glass. "No wonder she's so popular at school."

"So Shiro", Rin went on, once she'd finally regained her composure. "As a survivor of the Fifth Holy Grail War, what are your thoughts? Is there anything you would have done differently?"

"Wow, there's probably a LOT of things I would have done differently. I'm sure I made a ton of mistakes. I guess – now that I know that Servants don't actually die, but just sleep until the next time they're called for another Grail War, I'd be a lot less hesitant – I'd probably line everyone up and just let Saber take them all out with one shot –"

"YES MASTER ! At last I see you've finally come to your senses!"

"What – wait – Saber, no! I was only joking! Put that sword away!"

"Ohh . . ." Saber said dejectedly.

"Still – the Grail Wars only occur every fifty years – it's a long time, but I guess I'll still be alive – though I'm sure I'll be too old to fight in any battles by then. Even so, it would be nice to see everyone again . . ."

Rin smiled.

"Homunculus half aside, the Einzberns are a very long lived line, so I'm sure Miss Illya will still be with us as well – though by then time and gravity will have done their dirty work – " she added, glaring at Illya's chest.

"Mm, I'll just ask Shiro to turn back time for me again – ohh, my back hurts – Shiro, be a dear and rub my shoulders, will you?"

"Why you – "

"What about you, Tohsaka? Is there anything you would do differently?"

"Yes. I've given it a lot of thought. I still had Command Seals left, so I would have used one of them before the big battle and ordered Archer to clean my house!"

This provoked a general laugh.

"It really is such a pain, living alone. What about you, Sakura?"

"Oh – I don't know – I mean, I'm just glad how everything turned out – "

"Oh? For MY part, I would have kidnapped Shiro right at the beginning, and locked him up in Einzebern Castle and kept him all for myself – "

"Illya, what are you – "

Shiro tried to resist as Illya slithered into his lap.

"This really isn't – "

"It's okay big brother. If it makes it easier, I can tie you up and you can pretend to resist so you don't have to admit you're getting what you really want – "

"Get off of him you!" Saber shouted, her sword materializing in her hands. "EX – "

"Ack! Big brother, save me!"

Rin listened to the sounds of their shouting disappear down the hall, then took her hand out of the pocket where she kept her explosive magic gems.

"Well, let's have dessert."

* * *

"You know, it's strange . . ."

Rin's eyes followed Shiro's gaze through the frosted panes of glass, out to the courtyard beyond.

"The Fourth Grail War took away everything I had – my family, my friends, my home – everything . . ."

They were standing in the hall, along the inner wall of the Emiya House. Shiro was still wearing an apron from clearing away the dishes for the second time, and Rin had done away with her shoes, wearing only her stockings, and not even bothering with a pair of house slippers.

"I should probably hate the Grail War for that – and I do – I hate the whole damn process –"

"I – lost a lot of things too . . ." Rin said.

She was never sure of what the right thing to say around him was. It was one of the reasons she found Shiro so aggravating. And yet for some reason, it was one of the things she liked about him, too.

"But then the Fifth Grail War came along, and gave so many things back to me – getting to know Saber, and Illya – and getting to know Sakura in a whole new way. And you – it's nice to have friends again. And it's almost like –"

"It's okay . . ." Rin said, seeing the way his voice trailed off.

"It's almost like we're a family –"

"MISS ILLYASVIEL VON EINZBERN !"

Saber's voice exploded from the adjoining room at some unknown provocation.

"I told you, my friends can call me Illya!"

"A very *dysfunctional* family – " Shiro chuckled, and Rin laughed along with him. There was something about seeing her like this, outside of her school uniform, with her old red sweater and black skirt. He couldn't say what it was, but it filled him with a sense of warmth.

"You – didn't call all of us here together just for fun – did you?"

"Well now Shiro, whatever would make you say that?" Rin asked, smiling again.

"It's not like you. That, and – after everything we've been through – I guess I just know you too well, that's all."

Rin smiled again, but this time it was a softer smile, smaller, and more genuine.

"That – makes me happy – though I can't say just why – yes, that's enough – for now, that will do . . ."

"Eh . . ?"

"You're right, of course. I never could fool you –"

"Fool me about what?"

Rin rolled up her sleeve so Shiro could see the reddish abrasion forming on the back of her hand.

"Surely you must have felt it by now. You must have noticed – you're very subtle."

"Me – subtle?"

"Ahem!", she said, turning her attention to Saber, Illya, and Sakura in the adjoining room. "Everyone, I'm sorry to say that our First Annual Reunion For The Survivors of the Fifth Holy Grail War might also be our last –"

And here she held up her hand so the others could see.

"It's starting again . . ."

* * *

Rin held out her hand, and Shiro, Saber, Sakura, and Illya gathered around to look at the strange little reddish mark. It was very faint, but by looking closely one could make out that it was composed of two circles, one inside the other, with a line approaching them from her wrist. In the language of the Grail it represented an arrow striking a target – the symbol for the Archer.

It was a Command Seal.

"But – how . . ?" Shiro asked, trying to make sense of what he saw. "There shouldn't be another Grail War for fifty years!"

Vainly he turned to Sakura for help, but instead of shock or surprise, her face was full of resignation, tinged with sadness.

Holding out her hand, she slowly and deliberately undid the button at her wrist, before rolling up her sleeve. There, on the back, was another red mark, similar to Rin's though blurry and less distinct.

"I'm sorry Sempai . . ."

She held her one hand in the other, as if it was some strange object utterly foreign to her, and ran her thumb over the red skin.

He turned to Illya, but she was already turning away.

"I'm sorry too, big brother – I thought you knew, and were just waiting for the right time to mention it . . ."

"Shiro really can't be blamed", Rin said, with a surprising softness. "After all, he's got Saber, so there wouldn't be anything for him to notice. He's already got a Command Seal . . . Oh well, it can't be helped. At this point, I suppose all that's left is to figure out what to do . . ."

* * *

"What I don't get is why would anyone who's fought in one Grail War ever fight in another? I mean, the whole thing is so terrible –"

"Don't you have any unfulfilled wish?" Rin asked.

Her tone was so serious, it caught him off his guard.

"Well, yeah – I mean no . . . there's lots of things –"

"LOTS of things!? First you say yes, then you say no, and then you say lots of things!?"

"It's just – there's one thing I don't get – "

"There are LOTS of things you don't get !"

"I just – "

"YOU ARE SO WISHY WASHY !"

"It's just – there are a lot of things I might wish for – but not with the Grail. I mean – if you had the chance, would you use it?"

Rin paused. It was only for a moment, but it was long enough to make him nervous.

" . . . No. There are lots of things that I might wish for too, but you're right – not on the Grail. The only reason I ever wanted the Grail was to win the war for the Tohsaka family. As for the Grail itself, I really don't care."

"The Grail only grants wishes through death and destruction", Shiro said.

"But that isn't exactly common knowledge", Saber added.

"And I'm sure the Mages' Association is full of unscrupulous individuals who either don't know, or wouldn't care" Rin added. "Either way, all that's left to do now is to summon our Servants and –"

"No, wait –"

"What do you mean, wait!? I've had just about enough of you –"

"No, listen – I don't think we should summon our Servants –"

"Not summon our – that would be suicide!"

"I don't think we should do anything all . . ."

Saber looked at Shiro curiously while Rin sat, fuming.

"Look – just hear me out. I've been thinking about it a lot – since Rin asked me earlier if I would have done anything differently, and before that, too – "

Rin looked over, then suddenly remembered that she was supposed to still be mad at him, and looked away angrily again.

" – If I was the Grail, and I wanted to call another War – why involve the previous Masters at all?"

"Maybe the Grail is counting on us to be selfish?" Illya asked.

"Maybe – but why not just start over, with seven new Masters who'd never had anything to do with the previous war?

'Something's wrong. The Grail Wars are only supposed to happen every fifty or sixty years or so, but after the Fourth Holy Grail War, it was only ten years before the Fifth war started – and now it's only been one year, and already it's starting again."

"The interval keeps getting shorter", Saber noted.

Illya nodded.

"It's almost like time itself is contracting."

"And there's another problem. I'm not a proper Master – I'm sure the only reason I was able to participate is because my Dad was a magus who fought in the previous War. I'm not like Tohsaka here who has a formal magical background."

Rin blushed at the compliment.

"Um, actually", she said, putting her fingertips together, "I kind of skipped out once I got old enough to ditch Kotomine's lessons. After that I was pretty much self taught . . ."

"Wait – what? You mean after all that crap you've given me about not being a 'Proper Master', that you –"

"Look, I'm still a whole lot better than you!"

Saber quickly put her arm between them.

"Actually, that's even more to the point – I'm not a Magus, and Rin only has half of a magical education. I don't know what Sakura and Illya's training was like, but we're all still very young.

'Too young – if I was the Grail, I wouldn't pick a bunch of teenagers with no experience fighting a real war. The Grail tournament is supposed to be very prestigious – I'd pick the seven most capable magicians in the whole world – people who had fought in a lot of battles, and who had the money and resources to travel anywhere, because that's another thing I wouldn't do – I would never hold the War in the same place twice. Isn't the whole thing supposed to be a secret? So much so that you're supposed to kill any witnesses to prevent the world from finding out?" If that's the case I'd hold the Grail War in a different city each time to minimize the chances of being discovered."

"Maybe it's easier for the Grail to call existing Masters than it is to choose new ones?" Illya suggested.

"I think that's probably true. Eleven years ago, the Grail appeared in Fuyuki City. But somehow or other, something went wrong, and the War wasn't successful. So ten years later, it tried again – only this time it wasn't successful either. So now here we are, ONE year later, and another War is starting –"

'The Grail didn't choose us because we're the best choice, or it was easier – it chose us because it had to – it has no other options, and so it's making the best out of what it's got. In a word, it's desperate."

For a moment they all sat in silence. Rin and Saber in particular regarded Shiro with a kind of wonder, trying to understand who this strange person was who had taken the place of the well intentioned idiot they knew and loved, and what he had done with him. When at last any of them dared to speak, it was Rin who spoke first.

"Suppose for the moment that all you say is true", she said, drawing her words out very carefully. "That still doesn't give us much of a plan. What exactly would you propose we do next?"

"The Grail is sniffing around, looking for someone to listen to it – to answer its call. All we have to do is NOT summon our Servants, and we win."

"That's all very fine and good, but even if we agree, there's no guarantee the other Masters will feel the same way. YOU might be all right – you've still got Saber as your Servant. But the rest of us are sitting ducks. All it would take is for one of the other Masters to summon their Servant, and we would all be wiped out."

"We'll have to find a way to figure out who the other Masters are, and convince them not to participate in the Grail War."

"And if they won't listen?"

". . . . ."

"What if the other Masters insist on having a war? Oh no! Don't you look away from me ! We have to settle this right now. What if the other Masters won't listen to you, and insist that they want to summon their Servants?"

" . . . Then we summon our Servants, and fight."

"Even if that means another War?"

"Yes."

Even if that means fighting the other Masters?"

"Yes –"

"– and possibly killing them?"

" . . . Yes. I want to try to avoid fighting as much as possible. And if we have to fight, I'd prefer to try to focus on defeating the other Servants first. But if it means preventing another disaster like the one from eleven years ago – if it means protecting you and Sakura and Illya – all of my friends and all of Fuyuki City – then yes."

"We could always find the other Masters and kill them pre-emptively", Illya said, her voice's saccharine cuteness totally at odds with her sanguinary suggestion.

"No", Rin said. "Shiro would never agree to that. And I don't think I would either. This is good enough. Yes – for now, this will have to do – Are we all in agreement?"

Sakura nodded timidly.

Illya shrugged a yawn.

"If that's what big brother wants to do . . ."

Saber remained as stoic as ever.

"Very well. Our first priority should be to discover who the other Masters are."

"Right. We'll find them and try to convince them not to participate in the Grail War. If that doesn't work, we'll summon our Servants and fight!"

"Three against four would give us the advantage, but it could still be very dangerous."

"It isn't very chivalrous, but if it comes to that, I suggest we team up and all work together to take them out one at a time. Sorry, Saber –" Shiro said as Saber sulked, "I know you'd rather fight a series of honorable duels, but the risk is just too great."

"A greater danger would be if the three other Masters somehow figure out what's going on, and summon their Servants before we get the chance," Rin said. Then it would be three on one. Saber may be strong, but she's still just one Servant –"

"Yes, but the Saber is the strongest class –"

"And I'm the strongest Saber Servant!"

"No one's doubting your strength, Saber. I know we can count on you!"

Rin regarded them both with disgust.

"Let's not forget whose mana has been powering this convenient little arrangement", she said under her breath. " . . . ahem – I'm no heroic spirit, but I am a Mage. And Illya is no slouch, either."

"And I'm not much of a Mage, but I do have the power of the Blade Works . . ."

"Well, it isn't the best, but we'll just have to make do with what we've got."

"Right. If it comes to a battle, we just need to buy enough time for everyone else to summon their Servants."

"If things play out like they did during the last Grail War, then we can figure that Saber, Archer, Rider, and Berserker will all be accounted for. That leaves Assassin, Caster, and Lancer. Of the three, it's Caster and Assassin that I'm most worried about.

'Lancer is strong, and fast, but he's likely to make a frontal attack, and he's no match for a Saber –"

"Especially not our Saber!"

" – But an Assassin could attack us at any time, without warning – even in our sleep. And Caster can use advanced spells with a single word that would take a normal Mage several minutes, even hours to complete. If a Caster class Servant attacks us, we may have only seconds to react."

"We need to strengthen the barriers around each of our houses. Do you think it would be better for all of us to stay in one place? That way we could combine our power and make one barrier that's super strong?"

"How very astute. I'd considered that too, but I'm not sure that the advantages outweigh the risks. With all of us together, the barrier would be strong, but it also gives our enemy just one place to attack. That, and a barrier of that size would stick out like a sore thumb.

'On the other hand, if we're all spread out, an enemy has to try to find and watch all of us. But we're vulnerable. Shiro's got Saber with him, so he should be fine. I've got my magic gems and gander shots, but I'm no Servant. If an actual Servant attacked me, I wouldn't be able to win.

'But that may be a chance we have to take. If something happens to one of us – if one of us goes missing or drops out of contact, I think we should all assume the worst, and summon our Servants immediately. My fear is that a crafty enemy might be patient enough to take the time to figure out who we all are, and then take us all out in one night."

"I have a suggestion", Illya said, raising her hand politely.

"What is it, Illya?"

"I put a magic thread on big brother in the last war, using one of my hairs. If you'd let me, I could put one on each of you. That way, if anyone went out of contact, I could notify the others immediately. And if you lost contact with me, you could assume that I had been attacked."

Rin considered.

"It could work. The danger is that we'd only know we were under attack when one of us had already been taken out. But it would be better to lose one of us than for all of us to be killed."

"Illya, do you have to put the threads on a person, or could you put them on something else?"

"Something else? Like what?"

"For example, I'm wondering if you could attach a thread to the barrier at Tohsaka's house, and another to the Matou residence and the Emiya estate? That way if a barrier got hit we would know that one of us was about to be attacked, and the rest of us could come help immediately."

Illya considered.

"Hmm, it should be possible . . ."

"What is it, Saber?" Shiro asked, seeing that his Servant looked thoughtful.

"In Camelot we had an arrangement with all the Knights of the Round Table. The Round Table itself was centrally located, but there were castles and post stations all throughout the countryside, and the King – I would keep court at different times in different places. We could mobilize very quickly, and an enemy could never be sure of where to strike."

"I like it! Saber will be our King, and Castle Einzbern will be our Round Table of Camelot. An attack on one of us will be an attack on all of us, and we'll all come to help an ally in need."

Rin looked at him doubtfully.

"Well then, I guess it's settled."

* * *

"Shiro . . . I'll be honest – I went along with this course of action because we didn't have anything else. But I don't really think it will work. To surrender the initiative to the enemy – to do nothing – that's no strategy at all."

They were standing in the hall of the Emiya house. Rin slipped on her coat, and fastened the buttons one by one, then stepped into her shoes. Shiro looked at her, then turned to face the door.

"I agree with you. As a strategy, simply sitting on our hands and hoping the other Masters won't summon their Servants won't work – at least, not for long. We're probably going to have to fight. And we're probably going to have to change our plans several times before the end of this. And I'm okay with that.

'But to let our enemy do whatever it wants – to summon our Servants as some sort of knee jerk reaction just because the beginnings of Command Seals have started to appear – that's as bad as letting the Grail control us. And I'm pretty sure if the Holy Grail wants me to do something, then I want to do the opposite."

Rin smiled at seeing how resolute he was.

"Well now, that makes me feel a little better. I'm happy to see you're putting so much thought into this. Yes, if you're that dedicated, we just might have a chance after all."

* * *

"Welcome home, Miss Irisviel," Leysritt said, bowing formally. They were words she had not used in almost ten years, so it was strange to think they would come so naturally now, after all this time.

She realized her error with a gasp.

"Young mistress! What happened!?"

"A spell went horribly wrong," Illya said, tossing off her coat. "Or horribly right, depending on how you look at it – "

"But you've –"

"Either way, I'm home. It's been a couple of weeks, and I thought I ought to visit. That, and I thought I might pick up some of mother's clothes. It seems they would suit me . . ."

"Of course, my Lady Illyasviel", Leysritt said, bowing again deferentially.

"Just Illya will do. But first, how about a bath? As you can see, a lot has happened in the last two weeks. It would be nice to relax . . ."

* * *

"Ah . . ." Illya sighed, sinking down into the oversized square tub.

The Einzbern Castle was always possessed of a certain dank chill, regardless of the time of year, so that bath times were usually a somewhat miserable affair. The cold tended to induce one to get undressed and washed as quickly as possible, and then hurry into the water, where they remained until the last possible moment, dreading the prospect of getting out and hurrying to get dressed again.

But at the moment, Illya found herself in no hurry at all. And never had the hot water felt so good.

"Ohh . . ." she sighed, feeling the tension melt out of her neck and shoulders.

"Maybe Saber's right about that business of wearing a bra," she thought, looking down at the two sources of her aches and pains, and admiring the considerably larger ripples they now made in the water.

For a moment she could not resist a laugh, giggling at Saber's description.

"I realize that it is inconvenient, and that the whole contraption feels about as comfortable as wearing an ill designed catapult, however I assure you it is completely necessary . . ." she had said.

And there were other inconveniences.

Showering was a much longer process, and much more involved, with more to wash – and it certainly took more soap. And she found she tended to sweat more, and in places that hadn't even existed two weeks ago – but still, she wasn't about to complain.

"Two weeks . . ." she said, hearing the words echo off of the stone walls and come back to her through the steam.

It was an unthinkable amount of time.

Since the start of the Fifth Holy Grail War, her life had been measured in days and hours. She lived with the knowledge that at any moment she might be attacked. After the war things had gotten a bit better – she'd gotten to live with Shiro, after all. But in some ways this was even worse.

No one could predict how long an Einzbern homunculous would last, but all of the estimates had agreed that with the amount of energy she'd expended during the war, it would be less than a year. And so every day she had lived in paradise, and every night she went to bed, clutching Shiro, and wondering if that day would be her last.

But now . . . two weeks! It was more than she could even imagine, and nothing – not even the prospect of this shady attempt at another Grail War – could possibly dampen her spirits.

"Maybe we ought to throw a party . . ." she thought to herself. "I'll ask Leysritt and Sella about it. It might be kind of nice . . ."

* * *

At last the hot water ran out, and she got out and got dried off in a mad dash of bouncing and flouncing that she was at once both disappointed and relieved that Shiro wasn't there to see. Perhaps it would be best to practice several times first, to see what gestures were the most dramatic, and then feign ignorance while watching him to see which ones proved the most effective.

For the moment she stood in her towel, wreathed in frail wisps of steam. With the castle's chill, there was never enough heat for it to last for long, and looking in the mirror, she found that only the edges had fogged, so that already she could see herself clearly.

That was another thing that was different. In the past, by now she'd have been shivering violently, but now, although she certainly felt the chill, she found herself no more than mildly uncomfortable as she stood in her damp towel, and contemplated what to wear.

"I guess I'm sturdier than I used to be . . ."

She tried on several dresses, as well as a few of her old gowns, but none of them fit quite right. Some were too small for her new proportions, while others simply looked too juvenile.

Illya sighed.

"I guess there's nothing else for it . . ."

* * *

The wooden doors were old, but perfectly polished. Clearly Leysritt and Sella had been most dutiful in their upkeeping.

For a moment she stood with her arm outstretched as if she would knock.

And then she went in.

The room beyond was cold, its air thin, hung with the grey gauze of the passing of time. With a soft click, the lamp's yellow light pushed back the gloom. At once the room with memories. She looked at the bed, remembering how she used to sit between her father and mother, and plead to stay with them instead of going back to her own room. Her mother chided her – gently – and said no. But in the end she usually won.

Outside the window it was dark, the night a tangle of indistinct haze. Had she looked, she knew she would have seen the field where she and her father used to play in the snow. But for now her business was elsewhere.

Opening the closet door, she began to sort through the clothes, moving the hangars one by one. She found one of her mother Irisviel's white dresses. It was a beautiful gown with gold edging at the neck and sleeves.

She decided to try it on.

It was a perfect fit.

Next, she reached for the purple coat. It was just like hers, only taller, and more elegant. She could still remember the day her father had bought both of them, after taking her and her mother out shopping. Carefully she fastened the buttons, and then tightened the belt at her waist. On her head she placed the pill box hat. It was a style that had gone out of fashion overseas some forty years ago, doomed to forever be associated with the assassination of a certain president. But the Einzbern family was from Germany, and in Europe it had remained popular for quite some time.

Something was in the pockets.

Feeling, she found a pair of gloves. Their fingers were long and slender, so that for a moment they reminded her of spiders. When she pulled them on, the leather felt old, and stiff, but inside they were lined with fur, very soft, and surprisingly warm.

For a moment she regarded the strangely familiar woman in the mirror.

There was only one place left to go.

* * *

"Are you sure, my Lady?"

"Am I not the Master of this House?"

"It's not that – it's just –"

"It's okay, Sella. I want to see."

"You – will excuse me if I don't accompany you . . ?"

"Of course. Wait here for me."

At the unsealing of the basement door there was a wafting sense of warmth. The air on the other side was heavy and damp. It was nothing like the chill of the castle – this was something else.

The air had a kind of texture to it – not the processed feel of being conditioned by machines – it was warm – and moist – as if it had been breathed through a thousand breaths. It was the warmth of life.

The stairs before her descended down into the darkness. They went all the way to floor, but only made it halfway before becoming lost in a strange tangle of shapes. The basement itself was cavernously large, and it's space was filled with a thousand forms. There were arms – legs – feet – hands – all exactly the same. And all perfectly white.

At the turning on of the light, a thousand red eyes flickered open to greet her. Eyes red like her own.

This room was home to one of the Einzbern family's peculiar magicks. The homunculus.

"Sisters – I'm home."

* * *

"Illya – "

"It's Illya!"

"Miss Illya has come to see us!"

"You – remember me?" Illya asked, stepping down onto the landing, and walking out to the railing's edge, careful not to get too close to the outstretched arms with their grasping hands, lest they seize her and drag her in.

"Of course!"

"You're Ilyasviel –"

"Irisviel's daughter –"

"But you told us we could call you Illya."

At the mention of her mother, Illya frowned. Supposedly Irisviel had been given a tomb in the castle mausoleum upstairs, but she doubted if it were opened if she might not find it empty. The Einzbern's were ruthlessly practical and efficient, and the usual process for disposing of a homunculus was to bring it here so it could be absorbed as food for the next generation. They weren't known for wasting energy or materials.

She called them her sisters, but it would have been more appropriate to say she was their niece. Her mother had been given to Kiritsugu as a gift – a tool to help him win the Holy Grail War. But he had loved her. And she had loved him. And Illya's existence was proof of that love.

Looking out, Illya regarded the strange tangle of shapes. They were in all different stages of their existence. Some were in the process of being born, slowly separating from the rest. A few were far enough along that they could have been taken out and lived on their own. Others were in the act of dying, slowly liquefying back into a white ooze.

Some had features that were fully formed – with eyes and fingernails and hair and teeth. Others were less distinct. One girl at the top of the pile was lying on her back, her un-nippled breasts lolled on top of her chest while the two vague depressions that were her eyes stared upwards, lidless and empty.

Illya's eyes were drawn to one woman in particular, lying on her side, with a single red eye staring out between the strands of her white hair. It was impossible to say if she were growing out of the pile, or melting back into it. When she saw Illya, she smiled.

"My, how you've grown . . ."

Illya swallowed hard.

"I – suppose you must hate me. Out – wandering free – while all of you are trapped down here –"

"No!"

"No, my lady –"

"Not at all!"

"We could never hate you – "

"You're one of us!"

"No man ever yet hated his own flesh –"

"We want you to live."

"To – live?" Illya asked, unprepared for such an answer.

"You have to live – "

"And be happy –"

"You have to live for all of the ones that died –"

"For your sisters – "

"You have to live enough for all of us."

"For all of us . . ." Illya repeated, turning the words over in her mind.

She clenched her hand into a small white fist.

"Then my mind is made up."

* * *

"Welcome to Castle Einzbern!"

"Eh – heh – heh . . ." Rin mumbled to herself. "I've been upstaged . . ."

* * *

"You can't go to the party like that!" Rin had exclaimed, when Shiro met her at the door.

"But why not? Illya's invitation said we didn't have to dress up . . ?"

What Shiro said was true. Rin had gotten the same invitation. It was printed on black paper, with silver letters, and decorated with a ruffle of purple lace (a nice touch, even she had to admit.) The exact words were,

"You are cordially invited to a ball at Castle Einzbern, in honor of Her Royal Highness, Miss Arturia (Saber) of the House of Pendragon," and went on to note, "Refreshments and entertainment will be provided. There's no need to dress up, but I thought it might be fun to wear something kind of nice . . ."

Rin had read 'kind of nice' as code for 'full formal.' She wasn't about to underestimate a former enemy. And as former enemies went, few could be as formidable as Illyasviel von Einzbern.

"I don't trust that Einzbern girl," Rin thought. "She's up to something . . ."

She had suspected it would be a mistake to leave Shiro up to his own devices, and upon arriving at the Emiya Estate to collect him, her suspicions were proven right.

Shiro had greeted her with a wide smile, wearing the same blue and white t-shirt he always wore. Apparently his idea of dressing up consisted of wearing a fresh pair of jeans, and the addition of a matching blue and white jacket over his regular t-shirt – though to his credit, the latter was freshly laundered.

As he stood beaming good naturedly, Rin stared and wondered exactly how hard she would have to slap him to knock that goofy grin off of his face.

For her part she'd worn a yellow evening gown, in a mermaid style, with a double ruffle around the neck. It wasn't particularly low cut, but the way the ruffles ran down past the collar and into the body of the dress together with the way it hugged her curves gave it an unintentionally sensuous appearance. That, and the color (spring was still several months away, so it was a bit early for pastels) made her feel rather uncertain about it. But the effect on Shiro was clear.

"Wow . . ."

"Don't just stand there and stare! It's rude –"

"But you look so pretty –"

"Ohh! You can't just SAY that to me!"

Rin turned away, trying to conceal how red her face was.

'For such an idiot, how does he always manage to find exactly the right words . . ." she wondered.

It was a mystery that for the moment at least would have to go unsolved.

"Anyhow, you simply CANNOT go to the party like that – "

"But why not?"

"The fact that you have to ask means that you're an even bigger idiot than I had thought", Rin said, rummaging through his closet and a nearby wardrobe.

She pulled out a single breasted black suit, with matching coat and pants, and threw them on the bed.

"Rin, those are the – "

"I don't care!" she shouted, continuing her digging. "Do you even OWN a necktie!?"

"No – I don't!"

"Ah – ha! Then what's this?" she asked smugly, holding up her find. The strip of black fabric dangling from her fingers was decorated with a series of green stripes – not unlike the pathways of a magic circuit.

Continuing her search, she found a pale green dress shirt. The colors weren't an exact match, but they were close enough.

"It wouldn't be my first choice, but it will have to do."

The shirt, however, was terribly wrinkled.

"Wait – you mean YOU know how to iron!?" Shiro asked as she set up the ironing board.

"Don't act so surprised!" Rin shouted, adjusting the dial and pouring in a bit of distilled water.

"It's just – that's more the kind of thing I would expect Sakura to do –"

"Sakura isn't here!" Rin said triumphantly, pressing the button to release a puff of steam.

She ran the iron over the shirt mercilessly, turning it this way and that, pressing with what seemed like an unnecessary degree of violence, then tossed Shiro the result, watching as he fiddled clumsily with the buttons, which he got started out of line, so that one side was higher than the other.

"Oh good grief!" she shouted, slapping his hands away as she undid the buttons and then quickly rebuttoned them again.

"What am I ever going to do with you?" she asked, letting her fingers linger at his collar for a moment before taking the tie and draping it around his neck. She made several quick passes to form a loose knot, then cinched it tight, not even pretending to not enjoy his discomfort.

"Urk! Too tight!"

"It's supposed to be tight!" she said, handing him the brush imperiously.

"Here, fix your hair!"

She watched as Shiro made several passes, but the only noticeable effect was that the loose collection of messy spikes that made up his hair moved from the left side to the right, before ending standing straight up in the middle.

"Oh well, I guess that's good enough. Come on, we have to hurry, or we'll be late."

* * *

"Are you sure we're not overdoing it?" Shiro asked.

"Not in the least", Rin answered, though as they made their way up the castle steps, the clicking of her heels gave her some doubts.

But all of those doubts were erased the moment Leysritt opened the castle door.

"Welcome to Castle Einzbern!" Illya shouted from somewhere behind her. As they made their way inside, they were just in time to see her descending the main stair – though secretly Rin suspected she'd been waiting and timed the whole thing for maximum effect.

The castle hall was decorated for the occasion with purple ribbons tied around each of the columns, along with garlands of white flowers. Illya was decorated the same way – she wore a beautiful princess dress with a white bodice and a billowing skirt that started off lavender at the waist but ran down her legs into ever darkening shades of purple. The whole thing was veined with gold throughout, and as she flitted down the stairs and among the pillars, she cut a striking picture wherever she went.

The effect was stunning, Rin had to admit. By the time she reached the two of them, Shiro seemed to have lost the ability to speak.

"Big brother!" she shouted, throwing her arms around his neck.

Sakura and Saber were standing off to one side. Their attire clearly indicated that they had read Illya's invitation the same way – Sakura was dressed in a pink ball gown with white ribbons at her arms and waist, while Saber wore a beautiful pastel blue dress whose puffed sleeves and square neck gave her a faintly medieval appearance.

"I hope that everything is to your liking, your Highness", Illya said, curtsying gracefully before leading her to the sideboard where a generous buffet was laid out.

Such references to her former royal status made Saber nervous, but Illya seemed so good natured, finishing with a laugh – and besides, there was food – so she decided to play along for now, and humor her.

"I thought it might be nice to have a party", Illya said, turning to Rin while Saber allowed Leysritt and Sella to ply her with appetizers. "Saber mentioned keeping court, and besides, it's been so long since any of you have been to Castle Einzbern – not since the War, and that was under very different circumstances.

Rin pursed her lips and assumed a very thoughtful look.

"Yes, that's very nice. Thank you for your hospitality. Even so, after tonight, I think it might be best if we refrain from all gathering together in one place like this. With so many Mages in one spot, the signature of our magic energy must be rather large. We'd be easy to detect, and easy to attack.

'That, and I'm a little nervous about walking home. I wouldn't want one of us to be attacked while out on the road – or to find a nasty surprise waiting when we get back."

"Yes, of course", Illya said, bowing deferentially.

Rin regarded her for a moment, trying to fathom what her intentions might be.

"Saber and I can walk you and Sakura home", Shiro volunteered cheerfully.

"And I can come too", Illya offered. "Leysritt and Sella can keep an eye on the castle."

"Hmm, well, I suppose that makes me feel a bit better."

* * *

"Shiro, get your coat", Illya said, cutting her eyes towards the door. "There's something I want you to see . . ."

Shiro looked at her questioningly, but no explanation seemed forthcoming. Over his shoulder he could see and hear Rin in the yellow light of the hall, laughing at something Saber or Sakura had said. He glanced at her for a moment, then back to Illya, finding her purple eyes staring at him intently.

"Come on, hurry!" she pleaded, taking his hand.

He glanced over his shoulder one more time before allowing himself to be led away.

Outside the night air was cold and crisp. They were on a second story balcony that overlooked the main approach to the castle. While it wasn't particularly late, the evening had worn on long enough that the gusty winds that accompanied the change between the day and night seasons had settled out into a tranquil calm. The air was chill, but overall it was a pleasant winter evening.

To be honest, he was glad to escape the party for a moment, even if it was a small one, glad to escape the conversations and the joking, which he never felt he had been very good at, glad to be wearing his old blue and white jacket over his sport coat – glad to be himself again.

Illya was already wearing her coat when she had signaled to him, a purple one that was just like the old one she always wore, only taller and slimmer, more elegant looking. As they stepped out, she slipped on a matching purple hat. She looked at him from the edge of the balcony, with the dark sky behind her. He got the impression there was something he was supposed to do, but he didn't know what. In the end, he decided it was best to just play along.

"What is it, Illya? You said there was something you wanted to show me?"

For an answer she led the way down a flight of stairs to another door off to the right.

"There are other ways we could go", she said, "but that would mean going back through the castle."

"And this is something you don't want the others to see?"

"This is something just for you, big brother."

Her answer made him slightly uncomfortable.

The door lead to an entirely different part of the castle. Looking around, Shiro found himself in surroundings that were much more like what he would expect of a medieval fortress. The walls were grey, made of big blocks of stone. They were fitted together in a way that, although not devoid of craft or artistry, left the distinct impression that they were the work of a different time, much older than this.

He recalled that Illya had told him that Castle Einzbern really was a medieval castle, taken from the Einzbern family lands in their native Germany, and shipped over to Japan piece by piece, where it was then reassembled in Fuyuki City.

"It wasn't the main castle", Illya had explained. "Only one of the littler ones."

"Only one of the littler ones!" Shiro exclaimed to himself, amazed at the sheer size of the undertaking, and at Illya's definition of little. Clearly the Einzberns were a wealthy family, but even for them, the expense must have been enormous.

"I guess it makes sense that they would only spend the money to renovate the parts where someone was actually living, and leave the rest of it unfinished", he thought.

Even so, the rough nature of the walls made him uneasy. They seemed to get cruder and cruder the farther they went, and their wild, unfinished character left him with the sense that this was a place where anything could happen.

There was no electricity, and Illya hadn't brought a flashlight or a lantern or even so much as a candle. The only illumination was from the occasional narrow bowslit windows that cast blue shadows on the floor from the moonlight beyond.

Had Illya brought him all this way just to kill him?

"No, that couldn't possibly be true . . ."

But it did make him nervous to think that, no matter how loudly either of them might have shouted or screamed, no one would have been able to hear them.

At the end of the hall was a door, set in a massive stone archway, and made of heavy wooden planks fastened with iron bands. It was very ancient looking, and from her pocket, Illya produced an equally ancient looking key, which she fitted to the keyhole and turned the lock, its inner workings making a grating sound before opening with a clang.

With a creak the door swung back on its hinges.

At once, Shiro was overwhelmed with a sense of something that was strange, yet somehow familiar.

Inside, the walls were lined with books – old tomes, dusty histories, grimoires full of spells and incantations. Their bottom shelves held bins of even more ancient writings, rolled in scrolls, some of parchment, but other, even older ones appeared to be written on papyrus. To the right was a collection of laboratory equipment – beakers, flasks, diffusers, tubes – all very ancient and alchemical, but decidedly modern looking when compared to the contents of the library.

In the middle was a collection of cabinets full of artifacts, relics, and other curiosities, while beside them stood a lectern with a bookstand and the remains of several candles, clearly the work of many nights' endeavors.

Looking around, Shiro gasped, suddenly realizing the significance of what he was seeing.

"This is your – "

Illya nodded.

"A magician's workshop is a very personal thing", she said, putting her fingers together delicately.

"It was very kind of you to show me your workshop in the old building at Emiya house, so I thought it was only fair that I should show you mine . . ."

As she finished speaking, she closed the door, and leaned her back against it.

Suddenly Shiro found himself filled with a wild desire to grab her and kiss her. He imagined pinning her against the door, running his hands inside her coat, over her dress, and under it.

"What am I thinking!?"

Illya looked away demurely.

Tearing his eyes away, he pretended to be interested in a collection of Bunsen burners and titration tubes (and pretended to know how they worked), before making his way to a row of columns along the back wall, where a curious contraption drew his interest.

It seemed to be made of a collection of pulleys and chains, some of which ran along the floor, while others emerged from the wall. He stared at them for a moment, trying to puzzle out what they might be. But no matter how he looked at them, he could not come to any other conclusion than that the two cuffs that dangled before him were a pair of shackles.

"Um, Illya . . ?

"Ah – ha – ha – that . . ." Illya laughed nervously.

"When we held the ritual for the last Grail War, we knew we were going to summon a Berserker. I have enough magic circuits to control any kind of Servant, but it takes time, so we had to have some way to restrain him while the pact was being made."

"You can really determine the type of Servant you're going to summon in advance?" Shiro asked. He seemed to remember Rin telling him something similar, but the concept still fascinated him.

"Mmm hmm – it all comes down to the Catalyst."

"The Catalyst?"

"The object used during the ritual. An artifact or relic of some sort. Some of it can be controlled by location, or the time of day, but with the right Catalyst, you can predict the class, and sometimes even the exact identity of the Servant you summon.

'You've got Avalon – the scabbard for Excalibur – inside of you –" Illya went on, taking a sudden step towards him. "That's why, no matter how many times you try, you'll always summon her –" she said bitterly.

"You mean Saber?" Shiro asked, taking a step back.

"It's the same reason no matter how many times Rin tries, she'll always summon him," Illya said, taking another step forward.

"You're talking about Archer –" Shiro asked again, taking another step back.

"And it's the same reason that this is going to work."

Illya advanced again. Shiro moved to take another step away from her, but suddenly found his back against one of the pillars, pressed against the hard edges of the stones.

"Normally the Catalyst is consumed during the ritual", Illya said, leaning in close.

"Consumed?"

" – but with Avalon inside of you, you should survive quite nicely."

"What do you mean –should?"

"I'm sorry Shiro, but this is going to hurt . . ."

And with that, she clasped her mouth over his.

Her lips were soft, and pale. Instead of being pink or red, they were almost perfectly white, like the rest of her skin. For a moment he was lost in the lurid thought of whether other parts of her body that should be pink or red might be colored the same way. But these thoughts he dismissed as vulgar, and decided to focus for now only on her lips, and their softness.

But there was another softness as well. His hand had slipped inside her coat, and even now was filled with the soft swell of her breast. He hadn't done it on purpose, but the sensation, even through her dress, filled him with such warmth he found he couldn't take it away.

Illya, for her part, made no motion of stopping him. Her mouth was half open, and for a moment his whole world consisted only of the soft sweetness of her breath.

And then a fire shot through him.

Opening his eyes, he could see a bluish glow surrounding them.

"A magic circle! Mmpfh!"

He tried to pull away, but Illya kissed him harder. All around them, the blue circle gave way to dancing black flames.

The Command Seal in his hand pulsed, resonating with the Grail's call.

Behind them, he could see the shadowy figure of a man emerge.

Shiro gasped with recognition at the familiar figure that stood before them.

But Illya did not seem surprised.

If anything, she seemed to be expecting it.

Taking a white handkerchief from her pocket, she wiped her mouth.

"Hello, Father . . ."


	3. Chapter 3 - The Perils Of Mortal Desire

**Chapter 3 – "The Perils Of Mortal Desire"**

"Father, no!"

Illya shouted as Saber came bursting through the wall.

"Master!" she called, her skirt billowing behind her as she held Excalibur clutched low, chambered and ready to strike.

Upon seeing Kiritsugu, she froze.

But Kiritsugu did not hesitate.

Lowering the big pistol in his left hand, he fired.

The sound of the gunshot in the underground chamber was deafening, its thunderous report echoing down the hallway, then back again, reverberating off of the stones with a violence that made Shiro cover his ears, momentarily unable to do anything.

With a supernatural quickness that could only be possessed by a Servant, Saber held up the hilt of her sword, catching the bullet so that the slug flattened itself against the flat of the blade on impact.

For a moment she seemed stunned, but she quickly regained herself, darting behind a series of shelves to conceal herself from view. Undeterred, Kiritsugu used the other pistol in his right hand to fire off a volley of shots that ripped through the shelves and the volumes they contained, scattering their pages as he tracked her course, firing at where he estimated she might be.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Illya asked, looking over her shoulder at Shiro as he yanked her around the side of one of the book cases at the far end of the hall. "We finally get to see Father again!"

Shiro looked at her incredulously as she struggled, fighting against him as he held her back out of the line of fire.

"Yeah, but Dad always told me not to interrupt him while he was working – "

She gave him a pouting frown which he found difficult to resist. Her struggles only lessened when his arms wrapped around her waist, at which point she settled against him, pressing her back against his chest.

Kiritsugu, for his part, seemed undeterred. He paused for a moment to reload amidst the scattering of shells, their empty casings pinging on the stone floor all around him, then let the bolt slam shut, and continued to stalk down the hallway.

"He's hunting her!" Shiro thought, unable to believe his eyes. "Dad's what, an Archer?" he said, guessing at the class based on the projectile nature of his weaponry. "And yet he's hunting Saber – the strongest class of Servant!?"

It was ridiculous to even consider.

But it was true.

Holding up one of his pistols at the ready, Kiritsugu approached the nearest bookcase, cautiously angling around it.

Just then, something crashed through the roof.

Looking up, Shiro saw the lithe form of a girl drop down from the ceiling. She didn't descend so much as she seemed to pour to the ground, flowing down in a waterfall of lavender hair. Leaning forward, she touched the fingertips of one hand to the floor, arching her legs and back in a most unnatural angle.

"Rider . . ." Shiro breathed in recognition.

In each hand, Rider carried a long, ringed spike, the ends of which were joined together by a long chain. Over her face she wore a blindfold made of bands of woven leather. It was split down the middle so that it could be removed, but the two halves were joined together by a metal clasp that held them tightly shut, as if to warn that whatever lay beneath was dangerous.

Having her eyes covered didn't seem to have any effect on Rider's ability to see – or at least to sense – what was around her, for when Kiritsugu moved to raise one of his pistols, she lashed out with her chain, swinging it so that the sharp spike met with the barrel, knocking it away before he could fire.

He moved to raise the other pistol, but this too was deflected.

For a moment, a furious battle ensued.

Rider twirled, and lashed with her whip, making the chains dance all around her. Each time Kiritsugu was able to bat the sharp spikes away, using the pistols to shield his hands, but each time, she struck again.

At first, neither of them could gain an advantage. But slowly, Kiritsugu began to fall back, and lose ground. This didn't seem to do him any good. Rider's chain was a magical weapon, and she could make it expand or contract at will to whatever length she desired, so the distance had no effect on her ability to reach him. But as the distance between them grew, it took longer and longer for the chain to fly out, and return to her hand.

Seeing the danger, she moved forward to close the gap between them, but it was too late. Seizing on a momentary opportunity, Kiritsugu lowered the large pistol, and fired.

The blast sent her diving behind one of the bookcases. He tracked her, firing off several shots, and was about to put several more rounds through all the likely places where he thought Saber might be – just to let her know he hadn't forgotten about her, and to keep her from getting too comfortable – when a silver streak came hurtling down the hallway.

It came so close that it tore out the side of his coat, making Illya cry out at the sight of the hole that was left by its passing.

"Father!"

Looking down the hall, Shiro could see Archer silhouetted against the open doorway.

Kiritsugu shot Illya a warning look, as if to caution her against any further outburst, then retreated back down the hallway.

By now the air was wreathed with smoke, and heavy with the acrid smell of gunfire. As he pressed his back against the wall, the dark folds of his coat and the waves of his black hair seemed to blur, mixing together, until he became one with the shadows. As Shiro watched, he felt his own breathing slow, until even his heartbeat became a whisper.

"He's using time magic", he realized.

Looking closer, he could see everything about him was just as he'd remembered – the wrinkles of his coat, the un-ironed shirt, the messy waves of his dark hair, even the perpetual shadow of his unshaven chin.

But it was his eyes that caught Shiro's attention the most.

There was something in them – something that gleamed. Something familiar.

"He has no intention of giving up –"

Having reloaded his weapons, Kiritsugu pushed off, away from the wall.

Overhead, a rattling of chains told him that Rider was somewhere up in the rafters.

"He's outnumbered – three to one –"

Suddenly, Saber burst from her hiding place.

"It's impossible – anyone would tell him that it's impossible –"

Saber's sword sliced the air, answered by more gunshots.

"He's just like me –"

A clang as Excalibur met the crossed pistols, getting caught against their trigger guards.

"No – I'm just like him –"

Just then, Saber made a wild cut that slashed through the shelves, destroying their hiding place, so that he and Illya were forced to flee.

Rider dropped from the ceiling, lashing the ground with her chains, but that only confused matters more, as Kiritsugu fell back, letting her and Saber get in the way of one another.

Up the hall, Archer fired off another volley, and Rin used the occasion to sneak through the doorway behind him.

"What the HELL is going on here?" she hissed, making her way to them, her hand outstretched with an explosive gem clutched between each of her fingers. Sakura followed timidly after.

For an answer, Illya removed her purple coat, shoving it into Shiro's hands.

"I have to try to seal him", she said, stepping out into the walkway. "I have to complete the pact before it's too late."

As if to prove her point, Kiritsugu reached out with one of his pistols, and used the barrel to rake a case of alchemical equipment, causing the shelf and all its contents to crash to the floor. The mixing of the various chemicals caused several reactions, whose general result was an immediate and intense blaze, along with a noxious cloud of smoke.

As the flames spread, Archer had no choice but to fall back. Rider threw up her arm and shot out one of her chains, once again seeking refuge in the ceiling.

That left Kiritsugu once again with only one Servant to deal with. Turning to reacquire Saber, he caught sight of Rin and Sakura as they made their way across the hall.

Rin hurried, flitting between two of the bookcases. But when she caught sight of the dark Servant, Sakura froze.

She knew she ought to be running, but as her eyes met Kiritsugu's, in that instant she came to the same conclusion he did.

What better way to eliminate a Servant than to kill their Master?

Doe eyed she stared, watching the large pistol descend.

Kiritsugu waited until the bead at the end of the barrel was in line with the purple bow on Sakura's chest, then squeezed the trigger.

Seeing her Master's peril, Rider dove from the roof. Swinging in an arc, she caught Sakura around the waist, then tightened her grip on the chain, watching as the bullet bore down, then ripped past them –

– And buried itself into Illya.

"N – O – O – O – O – O !"

Shiro screamed, lunging forward to catch her.

But the sound of his voice was nothing like the wild howl that emanated from Kiritsugu. At the Servants call, dark flames erupted all around him. They alighted on everything – the books, their shelves, the walls, floor, and ceiling. Falling to his knees, it was as if all the despair in the whole world had been released, and now threatened to consume them.

Looking down at Illya in his arms, Shiro was shocked to see neither blood nor wound. There was no hole from where the bullet had struck. Instead, a storm seemed to be brewing beneath her skin, radiating out from her white shoulder in a rippling of dark clouds and lightenings.

"Don't move" he said as she tried to sit up.

Her right arm was now useless, but she bent forward and stretched out her left hand.

"Help me Shiro – " she gasped, leaning on him heavily for support. "We have to stop him – before it's too late –"

Shiro watched as the lines of the magic circuits in her face and neck flashed red as she uttered the words of the binding spell. At their sound, blue flames mixed in with the black. They danced in a circle around Kiritsugu, who now made no motion to resist.

As the seal formed, blood dripped from the back of her hand, the sign of the Grail etching its mark, before burning it shut. With the seal completed, so was their pact.

And then Illya collapsed.

* * *

As she slipped away, she could hear the sound of voices – shouting – but muffled – indistinct.

She could make out Leysritt and Sella, along with the Servant, Saber, and Sakura, that Matou girl. Out of all of them, Rin Tohsaka's seemed especially desperate.

"Funny that she of all people would worry about me", she thought with a small inward laugh.

As they wrapped a bandage around her shoulder, she reached out, and catching the end of it, wound it around the back of her hand.

And then she heard the familiar words,

"Trace on –"

* * *

"Is she all right?"

Rin's face brimmed with concern.

Shiro folded his arms and turned to the side.

"I – still don't understand what's wrong with her. I searched the wound, but there wasn't any kind of bullet or fragment of debris. She still can't use her arm yet. And they magic circuits in her shoulder are all a mess. But other than that, she appears to be okay."

"Good. Because I'm going to kill her – "

"Rin, wait!" Shiro shouted, but she slapped his arm away with the back of her hand as she stormed past.

"What the HELL were you thinking!"

Illya looked up weakly from her bed.

Shiro tried to stop her, but instead of accepting his sympathy, she sat up, and swinging her legs over the side, struggled to her feet.

"We had an alliance! We had an AGREEMENT! – "

Illya hung her head.

"But you broke it –"

"Rin –"

Once again Shiro tried to intervene, but Rin shoved him away.

"Pandora in the depths of hell wasn't as stupid as you! And I think I'd rather have an alliance with her, than put up with your stupid, back stabbing nonsense!"

Rin glared at her, enraged, as the redness in her face overtook the redness of her sweater.

Illya hung her head in silence. But her silence only seemed to enrage Rin even more.

"Well!? What do you have to say for yourself!?"

"I'm sorry . . ."

"You're sorry!? That's it!? You stupid, impudent little brat –"

" . . . Everything you say is true . . . I betrayed you, and your trust. I betrayed all of you. But I won't apologize."

"Won't apologize !?"

Rin's hand flew, and would have struck, had Shiro not caught it.

Illya looked up at her with tears in her eyes.

"I only wanted to see my father again."

Rin fell back as if Illya had stuck a dagger in her, nearly collapsing into Shiro's arms.

For a moment she glared. Then, turning, she gave Illya her back to look at.

"Maybe I ought to leave you and Shiro to one another . . . You're both equally stupid. And equally stubborn."

"Rin . . ."

Shiro pleaded.

Ignoring him, Rin placed her hands on her hips.

". . . Does it hurt?"

"It's excruciating."

Rin let out a long sigh.

"I am rather sorry about the state of your workshop . . ."

"It's all right. It was past time for a renovation. And besides, it will give Leysritt and Sella something to do."

"Saber sensed it first. You should have seen her – the King of Knights, running away yelling 'SHIIIRRROOO' like a jealous lover –"

"Ha ha, I think I would have LIKED to have seen THAT –" Illya said, wincing as she allowed Shiro to help her back into bed.

"Yes, I suppose you would. After that, Sakura and I summoned our Servants as quickly as we could. That is probably the first time anyone in the history of the Grail War has summoned a Servant using a magic circle drawn with cocktail punch and fruit juice!" Rin said, her voice trailing off in a laugh. Illya laughed with her.

" – I am rather sorry about the carpet though."

"Bah, don't worry about it", Illya said, groaning as she propped herself up on her pillows. "But I AM rather upset about my dress!"

Rin continued to laugh as Illya pouted.

"It isn't funny! I really LIKED that dress!"

And then they both laughed, and then Rin sighed again.

"Ahh . . . Well – now that THAT is over, I can actually say that I am rather glad. Out of all of the Servants, Assassin was one of the ones that I was most worried about. Now that we know who our Assassin is, that just leaves Lancer, Caster, and Berserker to figure out.

'Berserker could be a bit of a problem – especially depending on who the Master is – but it's actually Caster I'm the most concerned with . . ."

* * *

Issei stared at the electronically generated map of Fuyuki City. Using his finger to scroll around, he found the river, with the Fuyuki Bridge, along with Fuyuki Island, and Fuyuki Airport – all locally famous.

Widening his search, he saw the Gaikokujin, that in old times had been the Foreigner District, where Rin Tohsaka lived.

"I still don't trust her", he thought. "There's something a bit off about that Tohsaka girl."

As if to taunt him, a fleeting image of Rin Tohsaka with her mischievous, fox eyed smile wafted into his thoughts, at once both mocking and confirming his suspicions.

The Gaikokujin was also home to Shinji and Sakura Matou.

"Shinji . . ." Issei thought sadly, wondering when the two of them had drifted from being friends to mere acquaintances.

"Even when we were children, he did tend to think highly of himself, but still – he wasn't always like this . . . I wonder what happened?"

As for Sakura, Issei had long ago decided he would politely ignore the matter, and not ask Shiro any questions as to the nature of their relationship.

While it wasn't exactly common knowledge, Issei had been able to piece together from some of Shinji's comments, as well as a few of Shiro's own, that Sakura paid frequent, if not daily visits to the Emiya House, and was a regular presence, bordering on being a member of the Emiya household.

"It's none of my business", he thought, scrolling over to the fine old traditional neighborhood where Shiro lived.

After all, Shiro was an upstanding young man, both studious and industrious, and thoroughly honorable. Issei had no concerns about his motives – or about leaving him in Sakura's care – or about leaving her in his.

"Unlike that Tohsaka girl", he thought, thinking of Rin again, and wondering at his sudden chill.

To the south was the Einzbern Forrest, which had once been thought to be on its way to being a kind of Neo Gaikokujin, a new Foreign District for the new age, but so far only one family had moved in, and the rest of the land had remained undeveloped and vacant.

Off to the right, a giant green space loomed. It had no landmarks or place names – at its border, all of the streets seemed to end, their names bunched up like a wall along its edge.

On the other side, no roads were marked, and there was no grid or plotting – nothing to indicate what it might contain. The only marking was a symbol of a roof over a tower, along with the words "Ryudo Temple", floating in the emptiness.

That void was his home.

* * *

Issei sighed as he stared again at the screen, before putting his head down. From the computer, the cursor blinked back at him, a stark contrast to the blank white space all around. Beside it lay a sheaf of paper, lined, but otherwise empty, while the freshly filled fountain pen seemed like so much wishful thinking. He'd thought that if he wasn't motivated to type anything on the keyboard, perhaps the act of writing by hand would prove more inspirational.

It had not worked.

It was the same every year, and every year was the same. The teachers, in an effort to assert their power and insinuate themselves even further into their students' lives, had decided to assign as much homework as possible over the winter break. It was an act which Issei thought ought to be illegal, but such things were outside the powers of a mere student council president to change.

He had already completed the readings and the math studies, as well as the science lessons. Only the dreaded history report remained.

For his own report, Issei had been asked to write something on the history of Ryudo Temple. It wasn't that he disliked the old temple – he was actually very fond of it. It was just that every year, for as long as he could remember, he'd written some kind of report or done some kind of assignment on the place.

One of his earliest school memories was of giving a class presentation entitled, "The History Of Ryudo-Ji". That was the first time he'd ever spoken in front of a group of other students, and he was very nervous. But as it turned out, he was good at it. His mother no doubt still had the paper tucked away in some drawer somewhere, along with a photo of the first time he'd tried on his father's priest's uniform, which she'd be sure to use to embarrass him with one day, no doubt.

It had been the same every year since, all throughout elementary school, and then middle school, and into high school, and it would probably continue into college.

"I should really start keeping a file of them, and just put together the pieces to make a new one, instead of writing a whole new report year after year . . ."

Not a very scrupulous thing for a Class President to think. But he thought it none the less.

"I wonder what everyone else is doing . . ?"

Shiro, being hard working, had probably finished all of his own homework and was busy being taken advantage of. Shinji had no doubt pawned his report off on someone else. And Rin had most likely finished hers early, and was off doing whatever it is that popular people do with their time.

"Ugh – there's that Tohsaka girl again . . . " Issei thought.

Would he never be rid of her?

"She has Shiro bewitched – I'm sure of it. Perhaps I should learn how to conduct an exorcism, and free him of her, before it's too late."

He remembered reading of a certain young monk who'd become enamored of a young woman in town. They'd had an illicit affair – such things never turn out well, of course. In the end, unable to fulfill his love for her because of his vows, and unable to fulfill his vows because of his love for her, in desperation he'd taken his own life by lying down in the path of an oncoming train.

Suicide of course did nothing to excuse his bad karma.

"This is a matter that runs very deep", his master had sagely proclaimed. "It is the sin of many lifetimes."

Perhaps that was true. But Issei couldn't help thinking he could have had at least a little more sympathy for his poor disciple, who now lay smeared up and down the railroad tracks.

He didn't know if he really believed in the doctrine of reincarnation or not – perhaps mankind really did go through an endless cycle of lifetimes. Or perhaps all of those possible lifetimes were condensed into one – into this life. But either way, he was certain of one thing. No matter how many lives he did or didn't lead, this damn report wasn't going to write itself.

"Arrgh", he sighed, reaching for a tangerine.

He'd already eaten half the crate of them, and was no doubt headed for a terrible stomach ache, but he peeled and ate it anyway.

Such were the perils of mortal desire.

"Ahh, maybe I need a walk", he thought, getting to his feet.

The covered verandah that made its way around the outer wall was cold, being open to the air, so he threw on an old haori. Its austere black lines gave him a rather stately look which wouldn't offend the sensibilities of any visitors who might happen to be wandering the temple grounds, though at this time of year he doubted there would be any. It was late January, and all the world drowsed beneath a thin film of snow, as if life itself lay slumbering beneath a layer of mortal dust.

He rounded the front, where the covered incense burner stood beneath its own awning, and a line of Fuu dogs threatened to devour any unwary passers by. On the other side he could see the beginnings of the steep stair his mother had warned him about as a child, cautioning him not to play too near it. It had been an interesting upbringing, caught as it were between the rituals of bygone centuries, and the modern world that lay just beyond the foot of the temple steps.

For his part, Issei like the certainties of science. They were secure – so far as they went – and verifiable. But they had their limits. At the other end of the spectrum lay the supernatural, the province of divinity and miracles. Issei didn't really discount the presence of these things, either. He'd grown up around the temple all his life, and seen one or two things he considered genuinely unexplainable, neither by coincidence nor any other natural means.

But none of these rose to the level of what he would actually consider miraculous. None of them were life changingly paranormal. In the end, they were simply strange.

Turning a corner again, he found himself on the other side of the temple, where the forest leaned close. Here, the cemetery loomed.

Issei had no fear of the cemetery, not since he was a child. He'd grown up with it, and besides, to be afraid seemed to show a lack of respect for the dead. Half of the graves were empty anyway, being set up as memorials for wealthy patrons or for famous persons whose real graves were either unknown, or buried elsewhere.

It gave a certain cynicism to know that half of the monuments had nothing in them or under them – but still, the cemetery was quite large, and even at only half full, it was still a very large number of graves, and that gave the place a certain sense of gloom – especially these days.

"Brother . . ."

Issei breathed the word, stopping by the closed door.

Souichirou hadn't been his actual brother, of course. He'd stayed at the temple for three years, but the truth was, he'd barely known the man. Their relationship could hardly be called warm. But in some way, that was what he'd liked about him. There had never been any need for pretense between them – no false politenesses or long formalities. Souichiro neither cultivated nor resented his own isolation. And in some strange way, that made him seem closer to Issei, than even his real brother had been.

Souichirou wasn't the only visitor who'd been living on the temple grounds.

"Why am I suddenly remembering her?"

In the weeks leading up to everything that had happened, another guest had come to stay at Ryudo Temple. A strange, mysterious woman.

She was strange because of the unusual way that she had come to live with them, appearing suddenly one rainy evening, having fled from someone or something. She'd begun living at the temple under the pretense of needing a place to stay while her fiancé was saving up enough money to pay for their wedding. Issei considered this a pretense because even with his own limited knowledge of the world, he knew enough to know that it sounded like one. But it wasn't his place to ask, and he also knew the wisdom of not asking too many questions.

And she was mysterious because of the way that she hid her face.

Any time that she appeared, whether within the temple or without, she always wore a hood, not unlike that which would accompany nun's robe. And along with it, she wore a veil. It came down, covering her eyes in a perpetual shadow. Only her mouth and chin could be seen.

The reasons for this were unclear.

It may have been that she'd taken to wearing the veil as a courtesy to the monks of the temple grounds. Having a woman around was a bit of a distraction – especially one so beautiful as she. Even Issei had found himself thinking of her on one or two occasions, and so it may have been that she'd taken to covering herself to prevent distracting the monks from their vows.

Then again, she might have taken to wearing the veil for her own safety. Being a woman in the midst of so many men had to be uncomfortable at times, and while her hooded robe drew its share of curious looks, it protected her from drawing more vulgar stares – if not worse things.

Perhaps she wore the veil for religious reasons. She might have taken a vow – or maybe it was part of some Western cult – who knew what she might be mixed up with?

Whatever the case, Issei had only ever seen her without it once.

It was in the evening, when he had gone for a stroll to clear his head, much as he had done now. From around the corner, he'd heard the panel doors sliding open, then shut.

Thinking nothing of it, he'd continued on his way, fully expecting to see Souichirou standing on the verandah. Instead, he'd found her.

Standing in the moonlight, her hood was down, and her hair was down also – all but a single lock of it, which she wore on one side, plaited into a solitary braid. The rest was loose, and from between its pale, bluish strands, a pair of ears peeked out – a bit long, and pointed, almost elfin looking.

Was this the reason for her hood? This deformity? If one could call it such.

It startled him, coming upon her unexpectedly like this. There was nothing indecent about her attire. Apart from her hood, she was fully dressed. But he couldn't help but feeling he'd seen something he ought not to see, some angel or demon, some faerie or spirit thing. He expected her to be embarrassed, or to be angry with him.

But instead, she smiled at him.

It was only for an instant, but it was a moment that stayed with him, for hers was a beauty that gave truth to words like "entrancing" or "bewitching" – it seemed to come from some other time, from some unfallen world, that existed before and had very little to do with this present one.

It was only for an instant.

And then she'd replaced her veil.

* * *

Issei could tell from the police's line of questioning that they considered her the chief suspect in Souichirou's murder. Given the circumstances, he could hardly blame them. Her sudden appearance had been mysterious, and her disappearance had been just as sudden and just as mysterious. She'd gone missing at the same time Souichirou's body was found. In their position, no doubt he'd have thought the same thing. But in the end, he knew it wasn't true.

He'd seen the way that she looked at him, and he knew that she was utterly devoted to him, that she loved him too much. He could see this, even through her veil.

No, if she were gone, he was certain that she must be dead too.

* * *

"I . . . shouldn't linger here . . ."

Issei wondered just how long he'd been standing outside the door.

Long enough that his body had grown cold.

Long enough that his fingers had grown stiff.

When had he placed them on the handle of the door?

He didn't know, and moved to remove them, when he heard a rattling sound.

"That's . . . strange. No one should be in here – "

No one had been in there. Not since the night it had happened. Not since the night she and his brother had been –

It came again, the rattling noise, louder and more distinct.

Sliding open the panel door, he saw a strange blue light coming from the floor.

"A . . . magic circle . . ?"

It seemed ridiculous, but Issei could not think of any other way to describe it, or any other thing it might be.

There, on the ground, a circle of blue light was drawn, surrounded by strange writing and foreign symbols.

As he watched, the light deepened, growing in brilliance and intensity.

And then Issei saw one of those things he could not explain.


	4. Chapter 4 Uninvited And Expected Guests

Fate Stay Night – Unlimited Boob Works

Chapter 4

Issei stared, unable to believe his eyes. There, on the tatami floor, was a magic circle. It was large – its circumference spread across several of the mats. It hadn't been there before, but it was there now, and its intense blue light was so bright that it lit up the entire room.

A dagger lay on the floor in its midst - this no doubt was the source of the noise he had heard. At first it skittered about aimlessly, but then it settled, rolling along the circle's edge as if fixed to a track. Gradually its path grew narrower, in a tightening spiral, until it made its way to the circle's center. Soundlessly it rose, hovering over the floor like a compass needle, turning this way and that, as if hunting for north.

It seemed to settle in the direction of Issei.

"Me?" he asked, putting his hand to his chest.

As if to answer, the dagger tilted side to side, then flew at him, sticking in the ground at his feet, making him jump.

A tongue of fire leapt up, drawing itself out into a wispy, feathered shape.

"A phoenix quill . . . Most useful, and very hard to come by . . ."

Whose words were these? They weren't his. Issei heard them, but they weren't his own. They were spoken by a voice – a female voice.

The feathered flame alighted upon the circle.

"Ah – Enochian – the language of the Angels . . ."

Without any hand to hold it, the quill seemed to move of itself. Instead of writing the words, wherever it landed, the ink grew pliant, becoming liquid again, slithering like snakes, so that the words changed their form, until they assumed their final shape.

The circle's glow deepened, growing until it filled the entire room.

And then she appeared.

Amid the glow of the circle's light, she was just as he'd remembered – the long, flowing dark robes, the gentle sweep of her blue hair. Her hood was down, and she tossed her head to the side, at once in the throes of giving birth and of being born, as some unknown power created her out of the nothingness. From the point of her ears to the tips of her black gloved fingers to the single lock of braided hair, she was just as he remembered.

And then the spell was complete.

* * *

"YOU FOOL!"

Issei recoiled from the dagger placed at his throat.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I –"

"Why in summoning me you've – I've KILLED one Master before – and I'd do it again –"

"I only wanted to see him again –"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY!?"

"I said I only wanted to see YOU again!"

"Ah – wonderful! Just what I needed! Another idiot to lust after me, and after my power. After the things I can do, and the things he imagines I can do for him . . ."

Issei put his hand to his throat, making sure it hadn't been cut.

"I – only wanted to see you again –"

"As if that will be enough –"

"I only wanted to see your face . . ."

In defiance of him, she flipped up her hood, covering the top of her face with her veil.

"I'll be using you, you know."

"I don't care . . ."

"I only want it so I can summon him."

Issei took a deep breath.

"I – won't pretend that my thoughts have all been pure . . . but the truth is, I wanted to see BOTH of you again. Souichirou was like a big brother to me, and –"

She drew back her hand to strike him, but seeing his tears, she hesitated.

"You poor boy . . ."

Using her gloved hand, she wiped his cheek.

"If that's the truth – if that's your wish – then I will do everything in my power to grant it. But come – we've much to do."

* * *

"Hmph – it looks like my blood was the Catalyst. How fitting . . ."

"But that's impossible. The mats were replaced."

"Oh it doesn't go away, boy. You can replace all the rugs, and turn over a cushion or two, but it's still there – festering beneath the floor. Anyhow, it's a good thing my blood didn't get over here. If these mats had been replaced too, I wouldn't have been able to perform my little trick. There you have it – the world's first self-summoning Servant – what, you aren't impressed?" she chuckled. "I used that circle to summon Assassin. I never thought I'd be summoned with it myself."

Issei started at her, trying to follow along. Caster put her black gloved finger to her chin, and considered.

"Ah, now this is beginning to make sense. So much power . . . it's left over from the previous Grail War – the previous two Grail Wars, I should say. This might make things easier than I had thought. I wonder . . ."

Taking out a wand, she went over to the circle again. Holding her hands over it, she adjusted the shape of the words. Once again, the circle began to glow.

Issei watched in amazement, his glasses catching the blue glare, as the light deepened. But then it faded again.

"Hmm, as expected. It appears someone else has already summoned the Assassin. Souichiro isn't suited for any other class, and it was a long shot anyway – he isn't really a Heroic Spirit either. For that, we'll need the Grail. But for now, we'll have to proceed another way."

* * *

Outside, the air was cold, bitterly freezing. But that was the least of Issei's concerns.

"Aren't you worried that someone will be coming? With all that light – not to mention the noise. What will my father say?"

"Ah, not to worry. They're all asleep. A taste of my magic herbs has seen to that."

Issei regarded her dubiously.

"What – I said not to worry, boy. They're just asleep. What kind of guest would I be if I brought harm to my host? No, they'll sleep on until morning, and not disturb us."

"Now, for our first order of business – we're going to need power – magical power, and a lot of it, too. Ah, the ley lines converge so wonderfully around this place", she said, breathing in an essence that Issei could not detect, though he marveled at its effect on her. Even with the upper half of her face covered, her mouth and chin seemed to grow lovelier with each breath.

"It's a start, but we're going to need more – hmm, during the last war, that one girl put up a blood fort. I suppose we could do something like that, too . . ."

Issei looked at her doubtfully. He didn't know what a blood fort was, but he didn't like the sound of it one bit.

". . . then again, with the lines already here, and criss-crossed so nicely – I have another idea. I remember reading a paper from one Archimedes – I believe I still have the sketch –" Reaching into her sleeve, she produced an old, yellowed scroll. "Very talented, if a bit eccentric. I remember thinking something like this might come in handy one day, if only it could be adapted to magical power. We'll just need a source of energy to get it started –"

"You mean like a battery?" Issei asked. "Shiro would probably be very good at this sort of thing . . ."

"It won't do to involve anyone else. Here, I'll get started on the machinery – while you go and get the source of our power . . ."

Issei wondered at the way her voice trailed off. But the sight of her in the moonlight was too much to resist.

"Just tell me what you want me to do."

"Do you see those two bulls over there?"

He was about to tell her that there were no bulls, and that no such animals were allowed on the temple grounds, when, following her gaze, he caught sight of two wild bulls, grazing in the nearby bushes.

Issei stared at them in disbelief. Where had they come from? They were like no animals he had ever seen – their hides were a glowing orange, as if possessed of a living flame. It burned so brightly it lit up the grass all around them. He looked at them doubtfully, then over to Caster, who had already set about putting together a strange machine from a series of bronze pieces she'd produced from somewhere – no doubt from some magical means. Without so much as looking up she reached out and handed him a pair of wooden collars, their joints fastened by iron rings.

"You go and yoke the bulls, while I get things ready here . . ."

Issei looked at the two collars doubtfully, but there was nothing he could do. Carefully he approached the nearest bull.

"Good, it doesn't seem to notice me."

The strange, glowing animal snorted lazily, and continued to graze.

"Now, if I just approach it from the back, I can take this collar, and –"

As soon as the collar met with its neck, the bull suddenly became a different animal altogether. Turning with a snort of wild rage, it opened its mouth, and let forth a blast of reddish flame.

"A – H – H – H – H – H – H – H !"

"Oh – did I forget to mention – they breathe fire!"

* * *

A short while later, a slightly scorched, and very angry looking Issei made his way up to the front of the temple, holding the reins of the bulls as they ran along in front of him.

Upon seeing him, Caster doubled over with laughter.

"Oh – ho – ho – you mustn't be angry with me boy, for having a little bit of fun. I dare say, that alone was worth being summoned again!"

Taking the reins from him, the bulls at once grew docile and compliant, waiting patiently while she yoked each of them to the two arms of the strange machine. With a clap she set them trotting, each running on opposite sides of a circle, while the arms of the machine turned over their heads like a propeller. After several passes, its bronze body began to glow, evidently drawing power from within the earth.

"That should take care of our power – at least for now. For our next order of business, we'll need some protection. Here, take these, and sow them in that field over there. They're dragon's teeth mind you, so be careful you don't drop them!"

Issei received the brown leather bag doubtfully, but upon examination, he found what she said seemed to be true. Inside were a dozen long, thick teeth. They looked like they very well could have come from a dragon, and he shuddered at the thought of what manner of beast must have once possessed them.

Just holding the bag made him uncomfortable, and he was glad to upend it and get rid of the contents. But his relief soon turned to a new kind of terror. Wherever one of the teeth landed, a strange, skeletal creature sprang up, growing instantly from the soil. What were they? Bones from the cemetery? They seemed to have no gratitude toward Issei for loosing them, but rather turned on him in unison, so that he fell over backwards, scrambling to get away.

"Ah, the Spartoi – that Immortal Band who fought with such ferocious precision that the clashing of their interwoven spears was said to be like the gnashing of the teeth of a dragon. If THEY had been at Thermopolae, no doubt it would not have fallen . . ."

"That's fascinating –" Issei said, once again running for his life, "but I could use a bit of help here!"

Caster sighed.

"Must I do EVERYTHING myself?"

Taking up her wand, she let out a shout.

"Spartoi! Phalanx!"

At her words, the strange skeletal soldiers at once left off chasing Issei, and drew themselves up into orderly ranks.

"Cataphracti!"

Following this new command, they set off, each marching to its own post.

"Not bad. There are twelve – that's enough for the cardinal directions, plus each of the major and minor declinations – that's not a bad perimeter . . ."

As Issei stood watching, panting and gasping, Caster began to laugh again.

"Ah, now this reminds me of old times. You look a lot like he did, when we first met. He was hopeless, completely hopeless, and utterly forlorn. He wanted the fleece – but he couldn't get it. The songs all sing of his deeds, and his mighty band. They've forgotten it was me – I was the one who devised the ointment to quench the fire of the bulls, so that they could be tamed. And I was the one who figured out how to defeat the Spartoi, that Immortal Band. And it was I who defeated the dragon of Colchis . . . the tasks were all impossible, but I found ways to make the impossible possible – for that's what love makes a woman do – when she's in love – or thinks she is. And we were happy together, for a time . . . But then, one day, he found an ointment that quenched his fire for me . . ."

Issei looked at her wonderingly. Her look of haughty confidence had given way to one of sadness – a deep, unspeakable, unknowable sadness.

"Come, boy, don't go getting all misty eyed on account of me. You've done well – we have a source of power, and our perimeter is in place. That's enough for one night. Soon our real work can begin . . ."

* * *

Shiro yawned, and stretched himself awake. He was lying in his futon, in his room at the Emiya estate. The tatami mats beneath his back were beginning to be a bit worn, and were in need of replacing, but he didn't care. He'd fallen asleep on the concrete floor of his workshop so many times that even the worn out straw mats felt like heaven. Besides, there was a kind of comfort to their thinness and familiarity, and so he snuggled down further into them.

Or he would have, when he realized his legs were stuck.

"Am I tangled in the blankets or something?" he wondered, as he tried to extricate himself. But a gentle heaviness prevented him.

For the moment, the soft warmth felt so dreamy and pleasant that he didn't care. But by and by, his back began to ache. He tried to ignore it, but slowly the dull pain went from uncomfortable to annoying to downright unbearable. He moved to turn, only to discover that he was really and truly stuck.

"Wha - ?" he asked, still half awake, as he lifted the covers to see the cause of his predicament.

"Argh . . ."

There beneath the blankets was Illya. Her arm was clutching the top of his pajamas, and she had one leg draped over his, intertwined like a pretzel. He tried to sit up, but as if to put an end to any thoughts of escape, she put her head atop his chest, and let out a long sigh.

And then, as if to celebrate her victory, she began to snore.

"That's it, I'm making her move!" he thought, but Illya only clutched him tighter.

"Big . . . brother . . ."

Shiro sighed too, and laid back down.

This was not an unusual occurrence.

Ever since the Fifth Holy Grail War had ended, and she'd come to stay at Emiya house, Illya had made a habit of sneaking into his bed at night. In her previous form this had been a bit embarrassing, and at most mildly inappropriate, but now –

Illya sighed again and snuggled closer, pressing his arm with the gentle warmth of her bosom.

Shiro gulped and tried to think of something – anything else.

"She's so soft . . ."

Looking down, he caught sight of her pale neck peeking out between the white folds of her parted hair. Seeing the blue sling that held her right arm, he frowned.

He'd searched the wound, or where a wound should have been, several times, but still could find no trace of a bullet or fragment of any kind. The only clue lay in Illya's magic circuits.

They were a mess.

"Trace on . . ."

The jumbled tangle spread out like a maze before him. It reminded Shiro of a field trip his class had taken to a park that had been set up to memorialize the Fuyuki Earthquake.

Fuyuki City it seemed had more than its share of natural disasters. In addition to the fire of ten – now eleven years ago – before that, the city had been the site of a terrible earthquake. Most of the damage had been cleared up, to the point that now one could barely tell that there had ever been an earthquake, but one small section had been carefully preserved, exactly as it had been.

Here, the fault line could be clearly seen. The streets, sidewalks, rail lines – all had an abrupt break in them where the whole landscape had shifted. Looking at Illya's shoulder, it was the same. It was as if a map had been printed on the border where two pages met, and all the streets were offset.

Looking at two of the lines that seemed to go together, Shiro took them, and with a small burst of his magical power, welded them back together. The operation seemed satisfactory enough, but just to be sure, he took a ball of magical energy, and starting on one side, sent it across to the other. The pulse bridged the gap easily, and he watched it travel away into the distance, until it was lost from view. Then he took up another pair of circuits, and joined them too.

He'd started in the middle, without any thought of direction or location. Looking around, he saw the error of his approach. It would been better to start at one side, and work his way to the other, working systematically, by regions and quadrants.

"I guess it won't do any good to complain about it now", he thought, taking up another pair of circuits and welding them together. The whole operation reminded him vaguely of soldering paths on a circuit board. A large, magical, Illya shaped circuit board.

Shiro sighed.

"That's two out of what? A hundred? A thousand?"

The magical pathways spread out like a forest all around him.

He sighed again.

This was going to take a while.

* * *

As Shiro worked, he could feel his own magic circuits, stretching out all the way back to his core, where they were joined to Avalon, the magic scabbard of Excalibur that his father had placed in him the night he saved him from the fire. At the other end lay Illya. Evidently she was having some sort of dream.

The sidewalk spread out before her, and as she walked, hints of light seemed to scatter and dance at her feet. It was nothing more than bits of quartz that had been mixed in with the concrete, so that as she walked they caught the glow of the streetlamps, but to her youthful eyes, they shimmered like diamonds.

It was a fine, brisk January evening, and the air was cold, but crisp, and refreshing. Her Father and Mother walked on either side of her, each holding one of her hands in their own. As she walked, she made a kind of game of swinging back and forth between the two of them. Every third step she'd jump, pretending to avoid a group of faeries that she imagined were attacking her ankles.

"One, two – "

"Ack! You're too heavy!" Irisviel complained. "You're making my back hurt!"

"Whee!" Illya shouted, altogether oblivious to her suffering.

"Yep, that sounds like her", Shiro sighed, remembering one of his own recent experiences. Illya had shouted,

"Carry me, big brother!" (Of course loud enough for everyone to hear)

And then she'd jumped on him, piggy back.

Kiritsugu's other hand was weighted down with a collection of shopping bags, and together with his daughter's Tarzan impersonation, he quite literally had his hands full.

But he didn't seem to mind. And for all her fussing, Irisviel didn't seem to, either. There was something in the way she'd said the word "heavy" that caused her and Kiritsugu to exchange a look.

Shiro didn't know what it meant, but he didn't have to know to understand the look on his Father's face.

"He looks so happy . . ."

* * *

Evidently it had been something of a banner day for the Emiya and Einzbern household. Illya had a doctor's appointment – apparently she had quite a lot of them – but instead of making a house call, her Father had decided to take her to the doctor's office, and that meant taking her into town.

"Herr Emiya", the doctor greeted them warmly. "You are welcome anytime, but you know if you need anything I will gladly come and visit you at the Einzbern Estate."

"I know, and I appreciate it, but today is just a checkup, and the weather is fair, so I thought it would be nice for her and her mother to get out of the house for a bit."

"As you wish. For the skin grafts, I can tell you the latest round is healing nicely. I looked at each of the sites and they are doing fine. Her ears are still a bit inflamed, but that is not so unusual at this age. The tubes could come out, but I would like to leave them a little longer. She is a bit old for this, but with everything else, I think it is best."

"If that is what you think, then I'll agree."

The nurse in the front office looked at Illya pityingly, trying to imagine what sort of terrible accident had caused a child of her age to need so many skin grafts. She gave her a lollipop, and they were on their way.

The doctor had his practice in an office that was adjacent to a large shopping mall. The building fascinated Illya. It had a bay window that wrapped around the corner of the top floor, and she made it her goal to find some way to get to the top of it and look out. In his own mind, Shiro wondered if the window might not have been just for decoration, and not truly functional, but these were Illya's memories, and he decided not to let his own thoughts intrude.

Besides, she wouldn't have listened to him anyway.

In addition to the various shops and boutiques, the mall also had an eye doctor. Illya looked at the cases in the front window with a mixture of longing and relief. She didn't really want to wear glasses, but there was one pair with purple frames that she thought was very cute looking.

The mall also contained a salon on the second floor. Illya had never been very fond of haircuts. At home these usually consisted of Leysritt fussing at Sella to be sure she got the ends straight, while Sella fussed at her to quit fidgeting and sit still. But being on the second floor meant she was one step closer to her goal, so she sat still while the stylist washed her hair.

The bowl of the sink had a cutout that she thought was very funny looking, and not at all comfortable against her neck, but the scalp massage felt SOO good, she decided she didn't care. After that she dutifully sat, trying not cringe as she felt the cold line of the scissors, then waited with her mother under the hair dryers. They had picked seats on opposite sides so that they could watch one another, and they took turns laughing at how silly they each looked.

When at last they emerged, Illya gasped. Irisviel had always been a very beautiful woman. Looking at her, she couldn't believe that anyone or anything could be so pretty. Her own hair was only a couple of inches shorter, but it was so soft and smooth that she couldn't stop touching it.

"Hmm", Irisviel said with concern. "It's still a tiny bit damp. We'd better do something indoors for a bit.

Hearing this, Illya seized her chance. The escalator, from what she could tell from the map of the mall with its "You Are Here" sticker, was in the middle of the store, right next to the lawn and garden section.

"But I don't NEED a new lawn mower", Kiritsugu protested as she seized his hand, and began to pull.

In response, Illya turned to face him. Setting her feet, she leaned back, and tugged with all her might.

Kiritsugu looked at Iris questioningly, but she had no idea either as to what could be causing this sudden strange behavior.

"All right – all right! You could have just asked if you wanted to ride the escalator that badly – "

Slowly, methodically, the mechanical stairway made the climb from the second to the third story. Illya watched as the floor drained away, seeming to lower before them as they rose. Another couple of inches, and her destination came within sight. Seeing her prize, she bolted.

"Hey, get back here!

* * *

"What on earth has gotten into her?" Irisviel asked as the two of them puffed their way up the rest of the stairs.

"I don't know. Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine. I'm not THAT delicate . . ." she groused, gathering her purse and her hat as they stepped off.

"Ah ha! So THAT's what you were up to . . ."

There, in the corner, was Illya.

The building's designers evidently had some idea that the window might be of interest. The entire inner wall was carpeted, and slanted so that one could stand or lean up against it in order to look out. There was a small bench and for shorter or younger guests, a low step wrapped around the inside, affording a better view. It was here that Illya went. Placing one foot on either side with all the ceremony of an Empress celebrating her conquest of two hemispheres, she looked out over her domain.

The effect was magical. Outside, the stars twinkled overhead, while down below the city lights had come on. Being January, it was already dark, even though it was not yet late. There wasn't much traffic in the lot, but the occasional car with its passing headlights was fun to watch, while in the background the lights would go skimming by on the high speed expressway, giving a totally different sense of scale and the passing of time.

The view wasn't perfect. There was a joint between the two panes of glass, covered by a post. But by leaning ever so slightly to one side, Illya found she could look entirely out of the left window, which faced to the northwest, while leaning over to the right let her look out to the other side, towards the northeast, and she spent several minutes rocking back and forth, looking out one side and then the other, while Irisviel sat on the bench with her arms folded and her legs crossed, tapping one foot aimlessly.

"You know, if you wanted to see so badly, you could have just asked", Irisviel said, when at last she had finished looking out.

"Oh, let her be. She came up with a plan, and followed it. That shows intelligence. And independence."

"You spoil her", Iris fussed, pretending to be mad at him. "Do you even remember which door we came in?"

"Well, I – "

"Or where you parked the car?"

"Look, I –"

Just then, Illya and her mother both stopped.

"Oh – wow . . ."

There, in the intersection of two aisles, some enterprising designer had set up a display. It consisted of two mannequins, surrounded on either side by several boxes. The taller one wore a long, dark purple coat. The front was double breasted, fastening with a series of buttons that ran the full length down either side, giving a very slim and elegant silhouette, while the shoulders were covered by a short attached cape.

The shorter mannequin wore a similar outfit – the coat was almost identical, but more petite, in a young junior's size. Both wore matching hats, also in purple, and the shorter of the two had a pair of mittens, while the taller one wore a pair of slender gloves.

Illya stared at the two figures longingly.

"You should try it on", Kiritsugu said to Irisviel.

Apparently the display had had the same effect on her, as she was also staring longingly.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly – "

She protested shyly as he slid the garment off the rack. Slipping it from its hanger, he eyed it critically. It was made of wool, so it would be very warm, but blended with cashmere to make it soft.

"I still have my white one –"

Irisviel continued her protests.

"You can have another – " Kiritsugu answered her, slipping the coat over her shoulders.

"Look, I really – ohh . . . that does feel good . . ."

She pulled the lapels close around her, snuggling in their warmth. It had a pleasing weight to it – not so much as to feel heavy, but substantial, and comforting on a cold winter's day.

Illya gleefully held her arms out for her father to help her into the smaller coat, giggling as he patted her shoulders. It was a bit long, with the bottom coming halfway down to her ankles, and the sleeves covered half of her fingers, but apart from this, it was a perfect fit.

"It's a bit big . . ." Irisviel said questioningly.

"She'll grow into it."

Something in his answer made her heart melt. Taking advantage of the opening, Illya helpfully held up the matching purple hat.

"Oh, honey –"

"What? You have to have the full set – " Kiritsugu said, chuckling as he studied the display. As someone accustomed to laying an ambush himself, he couldn't help but admire the effectiveness of the trap. Everything needed to make up the two outfits – the coats, hats, gloves, scarves, and shoes – was all located dangerously close by.

Illya looked up at him mischievously, so to answer her he pressed a matching purple hat on her head, making her giggle again when it covered her eyes.

"Here", he said, holding out a pair of boots, made of black dress leather, and styled so that they could be worn turned down at the knee, or rolled up over the thigh.

"I still have my white ones."

"They wouldn't go at all."

Grudgingly, Irisviel sat on one of the display boxes and let Kiritsugu help her out of her old boots and into the new ones, after which he helped Illya find a pair of matching purple snow boots in her size.

"They have gloves –"

"I still have the ones you gave me . . . But Illya could probably use a new set of mittens . . ."

* * *

"Will there be anything else, sir?" the attendant asked as the cash register rang, printing out a rather long receipt.

Kiritsugu glanced over to where Illya and her mother were taking turns looking out the corner window. With their matching coats, Illya looked like a miniature version of Irisviel as she pointed with her mittenned fingers and explained the window's significance.

"Ah ha – I DO see . . ." Iris said, weaving from side to side to follow Illya and her explanation.

"Shall I have them gift wrapped?"

Kiritsugu smiled.

"That won't be necessary."

"Very good."

"You *spoil* her," Irisviel said again as they walked to the car, with Illya swinging back and forth between the two of them. Kiritsugu held her hand with his left, while from his right a collection of shopping bags dangled, containing Illya and Iris' old coats and shoes, carefully folded to be put away for safe keeping.

"I spoil *you* too."

"That – may be true . . ." Iris answered coquettishly. "Hey! Since we're heading back, how about *I* drive?"

"No!" Kiritsugu answered firmly.

"Aw," she pouted. "But I've been practicing . . ."

"That's what scares me!"

* * *

Illya stared at her hand, studying the motion of her fingers. She'd slipped her arm from its sling, which now lay coiled lifelessly as it hung down from her shoulder. Shiro lay beside her, snoring lightly.

She bent her fingers one at a time, then closed them into a fist. It was the same fist she'd made only a few days before in the homunculus room in the basement of the Einzbern Castle But now . . .

"When did I lose my resolve?"

She thought to herself.

"And over what? Just because something didn't go as planned? Because of some minor setback?"

She closed her hand, and then opened it again. She was still staring at it when Shiro spoke.

"Did – all of that really happen . . ?"

Turning, she saw he was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow.

" . . . So you saw?"

"Yeah . . ." he said, rolling onto his back again, and sinking down into the covers. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry –"

"It's okay. I don't mind . . ."

Shiro put his hands behind his head, ignoring Illya's gaze as he stared intently at the ceiling.

"What's wrong? I'm not mad."

"It's not that", he said, with a slight blush. "It's just . . . I guess I never thought of Dad acting like that . . ."

"Oh, is that it?" Illya covered her mouth to conceal a slight giggle.

"I mean, I can still remember, when he picked me up from the hospital – I remember looking at him and thinking, 'There's no way this guy can take care of himself! Much less me –"

Shiro broke off with a laugh, and for a moment they both laughed together.

"Father used to be like that all the time. He was always the one to pick out all of my clothes. And Mom's too – he picked out all of our outfits –"

"Really?"

Shiro thought of his father, with his wrinkled shirt and worn out coat, and tried to imagine him shopping for women's clothing, but found he couldn't picture it.

"Yeah! When I was little, Dad used to take Mom and I out a lot! Well, okay – maybe not a lot . . . He was always so busy . . . But still, it was nice. We were a family . . ."

"A family . . ."

Suddenly, Illya grabbed Shiro's face with both of her hands, and kissed him.

"Mmfh! Illya –"

In answer to his protests, she opened her mouth.

Shiro's hands arched out beside him, momentarily unsure of what to do, then found her waist.

Draping her leg over his lap, she kissed him harder.

The sound of the sliding door interrupted them.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better!" Rin said cheerfully, smiling the fox eyed smile that terrified her classmates so much. She'd been sure to say it loud enough for the entire house to hear.

"I was just – thanking Shiro for helping me – with my arm –"

"Yes, I'm sure you were."

* * *

After a very late breakfast, which Rin made Shiro cook, and refused to let Sakura or anyone else help him with, they gathered again in the living room of the Emiya house.

"This changes things . . ." Rin said thoughtfully, as she sipped her tea. "But not altogether for the worse. There are problems, yes. But we have some advantages. We know who four of the seven Masters are – that's more than half. And we know the identities of their Servants.

'If I was going to rank our pieces in order of strength, then I would say that Saber is probably the strongest. She may be limited to fairly direct attacks, but those attacks are devastating.

'Having Archer and Assassin gives us options. With Archer we have the ability to attack at long range. And Assassin lets us attack in secret. Rider is something of a wild card.

'No offense", Rin said, turning to address the long, purple haired woman sitting next to Sakura at the corner of the table. "It's just, I really don't know that much about your powers or abilities."

"None taken", Rider answered with a small bow. Indeed, she seemed glad at the turn things had taken. Archer nodded, and even the usually stoic Saber smiled grimly, all of them apparently happy that the formalities had been dispensed with, and things were starting to look more and more like a proper war.

"Opposing us are Berserker, Caster, and Lancer. Berserker will be terribly strong, but he can be lead into a blind rage, and taken out. We'll have to act carefully, but we should be able to manage.

'Caster I can see being more of a problem. We have to figure out which heroic spirit this Caster is, and the identity of their Master. Perhaps knowing that will give us some clue as to how to proceed.

'Lancer will be a difficult battle, but with the pieces we have, we can dictate the terms, so we should win.

'It isn't very elegant, but my thought is that we use the other Servants to draw our enemies out, and then let Saber destroy them. My apologies for using you as something of a battering ram", Rin said.

Saber smiled.

"I figured you wouldn't mind. So there you have it. We'll draw the enemy out, and crush them, one by one. If any of them try to run, Archer can take them out at long range. If they try to hide, we'll assassinate them. It's brutal, and not very original, but it ought to work."

When she had finished speaking, the room sat in silence.

"Well, does anyone else have something they'd like to say? Those are just my thoughts. Illyasviel and Sakura – you're both Masters. I'd very much like to hear your ideas."

Illya remained sitting where she was, putting her two index fingers together and then pulling them apart absent mindedly.

Sakura turned away shyly.

"I mean – I'm okay with it – if Sempai's okay . . ."

Shiro frowned.

"I figured YOU wouldn't like it", Rin said, crossing her arms in a small pout, "and I'm NOT opposed to talking to the other Masters, but I think we had better be prepared for a fight.

'Really, our plans haven't changed. Our first order of business is still to figure out who the other Masters are, and the identities of their Servants. I was hoping that Emiya could be of some help in this regard. As an Assassin, Surveillance is no doubt one of his specialties. And as a Master who fought in the previous Grail War, his experience should be invaluable. That, and I'm hoping he can knock some sense into Shiro for us –" she added, sticking her tongue out at Shiro when she thought no one else was looking.

'Tell us, Illya, why haven't you summoned him? Does he not like taking a material form?"

Illya touched the tips of her fingers together, and turned to the side again.

"It's not that – it's just . . ."

"Are you still injured?" Rin asked, her voice softening with concern. "That was a terrible wound. Shiro said there was damage to your magic circuits. Are you having difficulty producing enough mana?"

"No, there's nothing wrong with my mana . . ."

"Did the bond not form correctly? Is something wrong with your pact?"

"Nothing's wrong –"

"Here, let me see your Command Seals –"

"NO!" Illya shrieked, holding her hand defensively.

"What is wrong with you!?"

"I can't!"

"CAN'T or WON'T!?"

"I JUST CAN'T!"

Illya shouted, shrinking behind Shiro for protection.

Rin sighed.

"This isn't good. If Illya can't summon her Servant, that puts us back on equal terms. Depending on who we're up against, it could even be worse . . ."

Rin looked over at Illya, as she continued to press herself against Shiro.

"It'll be getting dark soon. I don't like to do this, but under the circumstances, I think we have no choice. We had better'd go and see him . . ."

* * *

The path from the Emiya house to the old Fuyuki Church was by no means one that Shiro travelled frequently. He had only ever visited it on a few occasions. But such was the vividness of the events of the Fifth Holy Grail war, that even though he had only been there a handful of times, the weirdness of it all gave the whole experience a strange kind of familiarity. The fact that it was well after dark only added to the surreal feeling of the moment.

Rin went on ahead, as striking as ever in the blaze of her red coat. Sakura walked beside her, trailing a few steps behind.

Behind the two of them was Illya, her pale skin starkly white against the darkness of the night. She was bundled up in her mother's coat, along with a scarf and hat and gloves, but even so, it was late January, and the air was still very cold. Shiro walked beside her, his blue and white jacket echoing the blue and white t-shirt underneath.

Rin looked at him, and shook her head.

"Hopeless – that boy is absolutely hopeless . . ." she muttered.

Saber brought up the rear. As the only Servant without a proper Master, she couldn't dematerialize the way that Archer, Rider, and Kiritsugu could, and so had no other choice than to remain in her physical form. But she didn't seem to mind. Indeed, she had even donned her old yellow cloak – the same one she had worn on that other evening, on what now seemed like so many years ago, even though it had scarcely been twelve months. Shiro wondered if the occasion made her feel nostalgic.

"Do Servants get nostalgic? About their past lives?" he thought to himself.

"This is no good at all", Rin said, sighing again, all in a huff. "We should have split up. With all five of us together, we can't help but stand out. We couldn't be any more conspicuous even if we tried. If any of the other Masters are watching, they'll notice us for sure."

For the moment at least, her fears seemed to go unanswered. The walk to the Church was long and cold and torturously slow, but proceeded without incident. As they walked, Shiro couldn't help but wonder if he was really only remembering the events of that other evening, or if in fact they had somehow wandered back in time, and that same night existed as a kind of place in time, one they were destined to visit over and over again.

Whatever the case may have been, their walk had an end, even if perhaps the night did not. Presently the gated churchyard came into view.

"This is as far as I go", Saber said, in a tone of voice eerily reminiscent of that other evening.

Shiro nodded, then went on ahead.

* * *

"Ah, Rin –" the priest Kotomine said as the door creaked open. "I had figured that you would be coming to see me soon."

Evidently his words were true. The interior of the Church was usually dark, kept in a perpetual gloom, as if in a mourning watch, waiting for someone or something. But on that particular evening it was illuminated by the light of a single candle whose lone red light threw long shadows along the walls and across the floor. Rin glanced at her own shadow, as if to make sure that nothing was hiding in it, then made her way towards the altar.

The congregation of Fuyuki Church had always been small, catering mostly to foreigners, and a few local converts. What services there were usually took place in the newer annex building that had been set up some time ago. To find Kotomine here at this hour and the Sanctuary lit confirmed Rin's suspicions. The priest knew. As the one who presided over the Grail War, of course he would.

"And what's this?" Kotomine asked, as the door squeaked again. "Why, I see you've brought the boy with you. Shiro Emiya, you poor fool . . ." the old priest mused with a carnivorous smile.

He didn't have long to gloat, for before his smile could settle the door squeaked again.

"Illyasviel von Einzbern! Now this is a surprise. To what do I owe –"

He was unable to finish his remark before the door squeaked yet again.

". . . Sakura Matou . . ?"

Sakura hung her head timidly.

Kotomine arched an eyebrow.

"Four of the six Masters, gathered in one place – why this is practically an entire Grail War already –"

"What do you mean, six?" Rin asked. "What happened to the Seventh?"

"Nothing, yet. The Seventh Master has yet to summon their Servant, though I expect that will change soon –"

"You're the Seventh Master!" Shiro shouted, pointing accusingly.

Kotomine frowned, and held up his left hand, showing the utter absence of a Command Seal.

Shiro stared, but there could be no mistaking it. The back of his hand was smooth, without even a hint of the beginnings of a stigmata.

"And now, what can I do for you this evening –"

Kotomine asked, as Illya shrugged off her coat. Upon seeing her, he gasped. The length of her hair could be dismissed as a year's growth, as could perhaps the fact that she was an inch or two taller. But there was no mistaking the fullness of her breasts, the way they strained underneath her white dress with all the ripeness of youth trying to break free.

In spite of himself, Kotomine stared.

Rin put the tips of her fingers together, straining for words to explain a very delicate situation.

"Shiro . . . may have – done something to Illya . . ."

At this Kotomine's face grew long, as he he pursed his lips.

"Boy, the confessional is this way –"

"IT WASN'T LIKE THAT !"

The priest stared at Rin's sudden outburst.

Illya smiled demurely.

Kotomine stared at Rin, then at Shiro, then at Illya, and then back to Rin again. And then he began to laugh.

"It isn't funny!"

"Well, I can see at least one of you is relieved about it. Possibly two", he added, seeing Sakura's sullen expression. "Now, tell me everything."

* * *

" . . . After that, I used the power of the Blade Works to move Illya forward in time, past the point when the homunculus half of her dies," Shiro said, concluding his explanation.

Kotomine opened his mouth in surprise.

"Clever boy. I'd expect no less from the son of Kiritsugu Emiya."

Rin touched the tip of her finger to her mouth in thought.

"It was after that the Stigmata began to appear –"

Suddenly she gasped, and her eyes went wide.

"Do you think it's possible that Shiro triggered the Grail War to start early when he moved Illya forward in time?"

Kotomine looked up thoughtfully.

"It's . . . possible. Normally fifty or sixty years pass in between one grail war and the next. Illya certainly doesn't look old enough for that. This last time only ten years passed between the fourth Grail War and the fifth. Illya certainly does look more – ahem – mature than she did before, but even so, I don't think she looks as old as all of that."

Rin hung her head dejectedly.

"Well I guess we're back to square one then . . ."

"What happened next?"

"Well, we summoned our Servants, only Illya's summoning went badly, and she was injured –"

"Who is the identity of your Heroic Spirit?" Kotomine asked.

Illya looked away.

"Kiritsugu Emiya", Rin answered for her. "Only something went wrong, and –"

"Wait - YOU summoned Kiritsugu EMIYA!?"

"Yes, as an Assassin. But she doesn't have full control of him yet. He can't speak. There's something wrong with their pact. I was hoping you could – "

"Where is he!?" Kotomine demanded.

"I just told you, she doesn't have full control of him yet –"

"Summon him at once!"

Illya turned to the side, unable to meet his gaze.

"You expect me to believe that YOU, of all people – an Einzbern – one of the three GREAT FAMILIES – "

"She's injured –" Shiro said, putting his arm in front of her defensively.

"SUMMON YOUR SERVANT!"

"Illya CAN'T summon her Servant!" Rin shouted, holding her hands out to her sides in clenched fists. "Not here. Not on holy ground. YOU of all people ought to know that", she said, folding her arms.

Kotomine glared. But what she said was true.

"Very well. There is – one place . . ."

* * *

Behind the chapel stood an old church yard. It dated from the time when Fuyuki City was a port town, full of foreigners, who'd come to oversee their foreign interests. Inevitably, in the course of their business, some of them died while overseas, and not wanting their bodies to mix and mingle with the native dead, a cemetery had been set up for them, and consecrated with holy ground.

But even among the foreigners there were divisions. The occasional transgression could be forgiven, perhaps granted an indulgence, helped along by a timely offering or donation. But for the truly reprobate – the excommunicates, the atheists, the heretics – the damned – these could not be allowed to lie in the same ground as the bodies of the more venerable dead, and to this end, a heretics section had been set up towards the back.

As if to emphasize the point, the fence that ran along the back wall was ever so slightly crooked. The bars were somewhat irregular, the stones a bit cruder, and the vegetation, while still tended, was less closely kept.

As Shiro passed through the gate that clanged shut behind him, he could feel a certain change in atmospheres, and the distinct impression that he was now one step closer to hell.

Saber met him on the other side. Seeing her standing there, shrouded in her cloak, it made him sad to think that this was the one place in the entire church yard where she might be permitted. But it didn't seem to bother her – her green eyes shone as stern and defiant as ever.

Kotomine passed over with all the dignity and grace of one who had been given the solemn task of presiding over the quick and the dead. Illya followed after him, walking over to take her place beside Shiro. In the dark night, her white skin was ghostly. Sakura seemed to shrink, wilting like a graveside flower. Of them all, only Rin seemed not to suffer any morbid effect from the place.

If anything, as she passed through the gate, her haughtiness seemed to grow by several degrees, as if to express her utter contempt for the superstition of the place. She looked – if possible – even lovelier than before – downright radiant. It was enough to make Shiro wonder if maybe there wasn't some truth after all to Issei's theories, and that secretly she really was evil.

Kotomine folded his arms, and planted his foot.

"Now – summon your Servant!"

At his demand, Illya removed the bandage from her left hand, and held out her arm.

Rin gasped. Instead of the sign she expected and knew, the ugly slashes of a blade over a heart, this was something else. A single drop, over a forked roof, with two downward pointing triangles, and beneath them, something like an eye, wreathed with flames. It was the sign of order, descending into chaos.

As Illya uttered the words of the spell, the red mark began to glow. Suddenly, the night parted like a curtain, folding back upon itself. Black flames emerged from either side, surrounding the ghostly wraith. Once again, Shiro saw the familiar form, with its long dark coat, and waves of black hair.

Rin stared, wide eyed.

But Kotomine began to laugh.

"Hah, hah, hah – Now this is beginning to make sense. A man unable to speak – barely able to think – driven mad by his own remorse – and by his desperate, repeated attempts to see his daughter. This is no Assassin – this man is a Berserker . . ."


	5. Chapter 5 - Friends And Enemies

Fate Stay Night – Unlimited Boob Works

Chapter 5 – "Friends And Enemies"

"This man is a Berserker . . ."

Illya hung her head.

Rin gasped.

"Emiya is . . . a Berserker?" she said, struggling to grasp the thought.

As if to answer her, Kiritsugu turned toward Kotomine and emitted a low, guttural growl.

"Father – " Illya said, straining to hold him back, wincing as the red lines of her magic circuits flickered in her face.

Of them all, only Shiro seemed unconcerned.

"Wait – if Dad's a Berserker, then that means –"

"MASTER !" Saber shouted, tackling him to the ground, and covering him with her body.

She was not a moment too soon, for as they dove, a black dagger sailed over Shiro's head, lodging itself in the trunk of a nearby tree.

"ASSASSIN !"

Turning, they all caught sight of a shadowy black figure as it flitted among the trees.

From the wild look in Saber's green eyes, she seemed only inches away from becoming a Berserker herself. It was only her need to protect Shiro that kept her from going after her prey. Caught between these two impulses, all she could do was press her body against him, and glare murderously in Assassin's direction.

But Kiritsugu had no such constraints. As he closed his hands, a pistol appeared in each of them. Lowering the larger pistol in his left, he fired.

The round struck true. The bullet passed directly through the center of the dark mass, which proceeded to swell, and then erupt, throwing off shadows like a scattering of crows.

For a moment they fluttered, before getting caught up into the trees, swaying among the branches, and then raining down like a torrent of black leaves left over from last winter.

They dove toward Kiritsugu, passing behind him and Illya, where they harried poor Sakura, and then swept over towards Saber and Shiro. Not willing to be surprised a second time, Saber had drawn Excalibur, and used it to hack at their midst. The cloud of shadows parted around the blade, reforming again on the other side with a wild laugh that seemed to ride on the wind.

"Eh – heh – heh – heh !" it called, getting caught up into the trees again, and then rained down on Rin, who threw up her arm to protect herself.

For a moment it seemed she would surely be consumed, for this time there was a flurry of knives mixed in with the leaves, but to oppose them there appeared a pair of crossed swords that seemed to materialize out of the night, along with the red figure who held them.

"Archer! A bit too close! A moment longer, and I'd have been killed!"

"My apologies my Master, but I wanted to see what he would do, and the fact of the matter is that you make excellent bait –"

Rin gasped in exasperation.

"If it's any consolation, you were the only one he seriously attacked, so either he thought you were the most vulnerable, or else that you were the most capable Master here, and therefore posed the greatest threat – that or he simply thought you were cute –"

"That's no consolation at all!"

As they argued, the column of black leaves descended like a tornado, touching down a dozen or so feet opposite them. From the midst of the storm a figure emerged. A dark shadow in the shape of a man, it wore a black leotard, stretched skin tight over a lean yet muscular form. A tattered black skirt was belted around his waist, and on his face, the grinning skull of a death's head mask.

"Assassin", Rin repeated, as the ghostly figure made a small, courtly bow.

"He's inviting us", Archer said, moving to position himself between the two of them.

Looking over his shoulder, Archer's eyes caught Kiritsugu's, who nodded. Shifting slightly, he adjusted his aim so that his field of fire covered both Sakura and Rin, along with Illya who was pressed close behind him.

Archer nodded appreciatively, then lunged.

* * *

Shiro stood watching as the two of them fought, amazed by the agility of Assassin's movements. He was a large man – clearly upwards of six feet tall, and though thin in the waist he was very bulky in his arms and shoulders. It seemed impossible that someone so big could be so nimble and quick, but Assassin moved with a dancer's grace, his feet barely seeming to touch the ground, as he and Archer clashed amid the trees.

He was like a matador, with Archer's billowing red coat in place of a cape, and his pair of upturned swords instead of the bull's horns. They clashed once – twice – the ring of the short swords against the long knives echoing amidst the trees. Archer slashed at him, but it was like cutting a shadow – impossible – for while his blades made rents in his black cloak, the figure they shrouded remained untouched.

And all the while the skull mask grinned on, unreadable, its expression fixed.

Archer's face wore a mask of its own.

"A – smile?" Shiro said, gasping at the realization. "He's enjoying this!?"

But then again, of course he would be. Archer was a Servant, called forth from the murky depths of time. It was for this purpose that he had been summoned, and as he watched, Shiro realized that it must be in moments like these that he felt most truly alive.

Archer, for his part, seemed intent on living this moment to its fullest. As Assassin sprang back, he lunged with him, grinning a hellish smile that made the skull mask seem cheerful by comparison. Foregoing his blades, he reached out, and wrapping his fingers around the front of the mask, he dashed Assassin against a nearby tree.

The impact was brutal, making Shiro cringe at the sound. Before he could flee, Archer turned, and slammed him to the ground.

"H – urk!"

A voice gurgled behind the mask as Archer's hand let go, gripping him by the throat as he readied one of his blades. But before he could drive it home, Assassin took advantage of the momentary reprieve, transforming into a black mist that evaporated beneath him, flowing around either side to rematerialize behind, so that he was forced to turn, cutting the air as he leapt back, scattering a shower of black blades.

Still facing him, Assassin leapt backwards, up into the trees, raining down another shower of knives towards Rin, so that Archer was forced to dash to put himself in front of her, batting them away.

Another barrage was loosed at Sakura, who narrowly missed becoming a pin cushion when Rider pulled her back, leaving her Master to stare in horror at the collection of spikes that formed at her feet.

Vaulting to another branch, he switched targets to Shiro, making Saber tackle him again, rolling with him as the daggers buried themselves deeply into the ground where they had just lay, the nearest one lodging just inches from her back.

And then, he caught sight of Illya.

In all of the commotion, her mother's hat had fallen from her head. Without thinking, she bent to reach for it. Looking up, her white skin shone brilliantly in the moonlight, her red eyes wide, with her snowy hair billowing all around her. She made a lovely picture, fitly framed in the clearing between two trees, and it was a target he could not resist.

This proved to be his undoing.

Instead of making any move to parry or dodge, Kiritsugu stepped forward, into the blade, letting it bury itself up to the handguard in his chest.

"FATHER!"

Without flinching, he raised the pistol in his right hand, and squeezed the trigger.

Shiro watched in amazement as the space around his hand and arm began to distort. The cycling of the action became a blur, moving impossibly fast, even for an automatic weapon, as the pistol emptied each of the shots from its hundred round drum in a single instant.

"He's using time magic again –"

As Shiro watched, a hundred tiny holes appeared in Kiritsugu's jacket, his coat – his face – arms – and hands –

Caught in the hail of bullets, Assassin simply disintegrated.

The sudden stop and return to silence was just as jarring as the gunshots had been.

Calmly Kiritsugu shifted the pistol to his other hand. Removing the peculiar round drum from the top that took the place of a more traditional clip or magazine, he put it in his pocket, and replaced it with a fresh one.

Holding his hand out over the ground, he reabsorbed the shell casings that had rained down around his feet. As he did, each of the hundred tiny holes filled itself back in.

This left only the knife. Taking hold of the dagger's handle, he pulled it from his chest. The moment the blade withdrew, without the power of its owner's mana to sustain it, it began to crumble, fading away into a grainy black dust that was carried away on the wind until it disappeared, just as Assassin had done.

A shadow flickered across Illya's face as one of her magic circuits flashed red – only for a moment.

And then the restoration was complete.

* * *

"A shadow . . ." Rin said, once the silence had settled. "The real Assassin would never have died so easily. They're probing us . . .

'Well this is just GREAT! Now they know EVERYTHING! And after we were so careful, too . . ."

"Eh – heh – heh – heh –"

At the sound of the laugh behind her, Rin's blood ran cold.

Whirling, she caught sight of a black shadowy figure perched atop one of the nearby tombs.

"Don't be so upset, little lady. My Master knew all of this already. Mine was a different errand this night. But when I saw all of you gathered here together, I couldn't resist stopping by to give my regards –"

Archer moved to put himself between the two of them, pushing Rin behind him as he threatened Assassin with his outstretched blade. But Kotomine dismissed him with a wave.

"And have you also come here seeking my protection?" he asked.

At his question, Assassin turned his head to the side inquisitively, after the manner of a curious bird.

"Eh . . ?

The grinning skull mask remained as unreadable and expressionless as ever.

"As the Overseer of the Holy Grail War, I had not thought to participate. But there is still one Servant left. Your Master no doubt knows this, too –"

And here Kotomine rolled up his sleeve to reveal an assortment of Stigmata for different Command Seals glowing red along his arm.

"Don't make me rethink my decision."

"Heh – heh."

At this, Assassin turned, and leapt off of the tomb stone. Two quick steps brought him to the churchyard wall. A third, and he bounded over, then leapt away, into the night.

"Come, we'd best be getting indoors. He's gone for now, but there's no telling when he might come back. Not to mention what else might be lurking out here in the dark.

'The Annex building isn't far. From here, it's a shorter walk than going back to the main Church, and under the circumstances, I think it behooves us to be brief."

* * *

Shiro found it telling that the newer construction was closer to the heretics' part of the cemetery, but out of politeness he decided it best not to say anything about it. The Church basement was of a walkout style, with a pair of double doors that opened onto a concrete patio that was littered with scattered leaves. Some of them were still wet from melted snow, and stuck to the ground, making it clear that it had not been swept in a while.

On either side, a lattice work of formed concrete made a kind of screen for the entryway that must have once been very stylish, but now gave a rather dim view of the past's aging ideas of modernity.

As Kirei opened the doors, he was struck by a sudden thought, and the thought quickly turned to worry.

"But what about Saber –"

Kotomine held up his hand, and showed a slip of white paper between his fingers.

"It may not be much, but suffer ye thus far. Consider this an indulgence."

Saber looked at Shiro questioningly, her luminous green eyes reminding him of just how uncomfortable he was at times with the title of "Master." She clearly deferred to him in matters like these – even if he felt like he ought to be the one deferring to her. Either way, a decision needed to be made, so he made one.

"Come on, Saber."

At his words, she picked up her booted foot, and with all the sheepishness of a vampire being invited to Sunday School, stepped over the threshold.

Apparently Kotomine's indulgence must have worked, for her foot met the floor on the other side without any ill effect coming to her or the place. For the moment, at least, they'd avoided an Apocalypse.

"Hmph", Rin mused. "I suppose he is a real priest after all."

Shiro busied himself with looking around the place.

There was a multipurpose room off to the left, with a cafeteria equipped with very low tables, and a kitchen toward the back. The floor was of grey linoleum, with light blue aquamarine walls, and formica countertops. Several classrooms were on either side of the hall, along with a nurse's office and a kind of infirmary with two beds, a medicine cabinet, and a few very rudimentary pieces of medical equipment.

On the whole, it all seemed very ordinary, and decidedly unmysterious.

"Is something the matter?" Kotomine asked.

"No", Shiro said, not wanting to sound rude. "I guess I just didn't know what to expect . . ."

"Oh? And what sort of thing DID you expect?"

"I don't know – maybe a crypt or some catacombs, or a tomb – or – or something?"

Kirei laughed.

"And do you have dead people in YOUR basement?"

Sakura and Illya looked down and to the side, each facing in opposite directions.

"Well, no, but –"

"Ha – ha – ha – ha – It's okay, boy. It's true that the early Church did have the habit of making altars out of Saints' graves. But that would be more appropriate for a Cathedral, or a Basilica, rather than a humble little Church here in Fuyuki. Though we do have a Reliquary in the old Church building, if you're interested in that kind of thing."

Rin frowned at Shiro for being so dense, while Illya took advantage of the distraction to play in one of the classrooms.

"Whee –" she shouted, holding her arms out to her sides while spinning around on one foot.

Rin and Shiro exchanged a look, regarding her doubtfully, while Kotomine unlocked a set of double doors that opened into a reception room at the other end of the hall.

"Well then, I suppose we'd better be getting down to business . . ."

* * *

The room on the other side was large, being furnished with a long table with chairs along either side and at each end. It was carpeted in the same light blue aquamarine color they'd seen in the cafeteria. A painting of The Last Supper hung upon the wall, depicting the Messiah at a long table not unlike this one, surrounded by the Apostles, along with Judas, the Traitor. Seeing the title made Shiro uneasy, and he wondered if this would be the last gathering he'd ever attend.

"Now then, I suppose we'd best be getting down to business", Kirei repeated.

"Agreed", Rin said, stalking toward the unsuspecting Illya.

Without warning, she seized her hat, and struck her over the head with it.

"Ouch! Rin – what the hell are you –"

"That's MY line!" Rin shouted. "And I'd very much like to hear your answer! First you go and break our pact, and summon a Servant! And then you lie about it and let us believe that he's an Assassin when the whole time you knew he was really a Berserker!"

"I didn't lie . . ." Illya said, her head still smarting as they took their places around the table. Saber sat at one end, while Kirei sat at the other. Shiro sat in the middle, between Sakura and Rin, with Illya hiding behind him for protection. "I just let you think what you wanted to . . ."

"Oh! I stand corrected. And is there ANYTHING ELSE that you've failed to mention !?"

Illya closed her eyes and smiled smugly, deciding that the kiss she'd stolen from Shiro in his sleep, and the times she'd "accidentally" let him walk in on her while she was changing were, for their present purposes at least, irrelevant.

". . . No."

Rin sighed.

"Well then, I guess we have no choice but to believe you."

"Ow . . ." Illya said under her breath. "That really did hurt."

Kirei folded his hands.

"I'm curious – what exactly did you mean – about your pact?"

Rin sighed again.

"That was Shiro's idea. He came up with a plan to form a kind of trifecta, with Illya, Sakura, and myself –"

"That would be a tetrarchy, but go on."

Rin scowled.

"The idea was to try to identify the other Masters, and talk them into some sort of truce – "

"To prevent the fighting", Shiro explained.

"I see. So that was your plan. A noble effort, but it would never work. The Grail would simply summon other Masters, or else find some way to make you fight among yourselves. But I commend you, none the less."

"I thought the Holy Grail could only appear once every fifty years. But last time it was ten – and now it's been only one, and yet already it's appeared again."

"Ah, so you've noticed."

For a moment, Kirei and Shiro's eyes met.

"What is it – the Grail?"

"There are a number of holy relics whose existence can be inferred, and in some cases even verified. We know, for example, of the Lance of Longinus – the so called Spear of Destiny – along with the Ark of the Covenant, the Mandillion of Odessa, and the Shroud of Turin.

'In the case of the Grail, things are less certain. We know, for example, that there was a Last Supper, and that a cup was used, therefore that cup must exist, but as to its whereabouts, the provenance is unsure. We can be certain, however, that the holy grail of Fuyuki City is not the Cup of Christ."

"Hmph!" Rin scoffed. "How can a so-called priest know so much about a pagan object?"

"All things are pure unto the pure –"

"YOU of all people would DARE to speak of purity? The only kind of purity YOU have is pure evil!"

"Perhaps, but then, the Lord said, 'I would that you were either hot or cold.' It is the lukewarm that he spews out of his mouth."

Saber looked at him incredulously. Rin smirked.

"It would seem the devil really can quote Scripture for his own purposes."

"Indeed. But then, that's the beauty of it all. The Devil, in the end, is his Master's devil", he said, looking directly into Saber's green eyes.

'And in the court of kings, only madmen and fools are permitted to speak the truth. And a jester, though a jester, is still the king's fool, after all", he finished, with a look toward Shiro.

"Why you –"

"Let it go, Saber."

Saber growled. At Kirei's insult, she'd half risen from her seat, but on hearing Shiro's words, she sat back down.

"If it isn't the Cup of Christ, then what is it?"

"The Mages' Association would have you believe that the Holy Grail is actually a ritual – one that they devised, and control. The Grail itself is merely a vessel, a receptacle for magic power. Seven Servants are summoned, answering the call of seven Masters.

'Those Servants fight, and one by one are destroyed and consumed. Their magical power then flows into the Grail, until it is full. When the final Servant merges with the Grail, enough power is released to tear a hole in the very fabric of existence, revealing a pathway to The Root – the origin of all things. It's a kind of shortcut to Enlightenment, if you will – a so called Stairway To Heaven.

'There are problems with this theory, too. For one thing, there's the matter of chronology. This Sixth Holy Grail War – if these events can truly be called a Grail War – is happening now. The fifth war, as you note, took place ten years earlier. Before that, the intervals between previous Grail Wars were much longer, happening every fifty years or so. Even so, that's not quite two centuries. That would make the Grail almost two hundred years old, but – "

Kirei's voice trailed off. Saber had risen from her chair.

" – It happened in my time, too . . ."

They all turned at Saber's words.

"It appeared once in my Court as well – at the Round Table in Camelot – a beautiful chalice that promised us miracles in our time of need."

"There is considerable debate over when and if King Arthur actually lived. As a Heroic Spirit, you are the amalgamation of all the memories of your own life, as well as all of the myths and legends that have grown up around you.

'But even allowing for the vagaries of the Gregorian Calendar and a certain amount of poetic license, the most recent estimate would still be around a thousand years ago, and some sources suggest even that is five hundred years out of date. Either way, at best this puts the appearance of Camelot's Grail some eight hundred years too soon."

"So what does that mean?" Shiro asked.

"It means that the true identity of the Holy Grail of Fuyuki City remains a mystery. But knowing that may or may not be of assistance."

Rin sighed.

"Well that doesn't help us at all! I was hoping you could at least tell us SOMETHING of use. What about Shiro's father?"

"Mmm, yes. You're going to have some problems with his class. As an Assassin, Emiya was known as the Mage Killer. He was a master of strategy and tactics. He isn't really suited to being a Berserker.

'I must admit, I'm rather disappointed. Kiritsugu was the one who defeated me in the Fourth Holy Grail War. I had rather hoped to cross swords with him again. He was my greatest enemy . . ."

Something in the way Kotomine spoke gave Shiro pause.

"You – really don't like Assassins, do you?"

"I must admit, I do find them distasteful – "

"Hmph! YOU'RE one to talk", Rin snorted. "A priest who hides daggers in his robes . . ."

"The art of assassination has long been an instrument in mankind's toolkit. And there are those who would argue that it is a much cleaner, and more merciful way to prosecute a war than sending two armies of men off to their deaths.

'I guess if I had to put a word to it, I would say that it's a matter of Sovereignty."

"Sovereignty?" Shiro asked.

"Mmm, Saber knows."

Shiro turned to look at her questioningly, but Saber turned away. The thought of agreeing with Kotomine disgusted her, but his words were true.

Kirei explained.

"One King may order the death of another King. At times, my Order has received commands from the Vatican to take certain actions to prevent what could only be described as a sheer catastrophe. And your father from time to time undertook certain assignments at the request of the Mages Association to prevent things within the magical world from spilling over into disaster for the rest of mankind.

'But the Hasan are something else. They answer to no earthly power, but rather have taken it upon themselves to decide who will live and die. But that being said, you should know that as the Overseer of the Grail War, it is not for me to take sides. If Assassin's Master were to come to me seeking aid, I would be obligated to assist him the same as I would to assist you."

"You know who it is, don't you?" Shiro said. "Assassin's Master?"

"Of course I do. As the Overseer of the Grail War, it is my business to know."

Shiro frowned.

"Aren't you going to ask me, boy?"

"If I asked you, you wouldn't tell me."

"Of course not. And neither will I let you go. But I do have one question for you. You said Illya was injured during the summoning?"

"Yes. When Dad was first summoned, he wasn't himself. He went ber – it took a few minutes to get him under control. During that time, he fought with us, and one of the shots he fired accidentally struck Illya."

"Rin said you were able to heal her?"

"Yes. I retraced her magic circuits – there was no wound where the bullet hit, but her magic circuits were all a mess –"

At this, a sudden light came into Kotomine's eyes.

"An Origin Round . . ."

"What's that?"

"The power of binding and severing – it was Kiritsugu's specialty. To a regular human, it's just an ordinary bullet – deadly enough – but to a magic user, it's especially devastating. It destroys the magic circuits – a Mage hit with an Origin Round might never be able to use magic again. But you said there was no wound?"

"No, nothing – no blood – no visible wound of any kind. Just – blackness . . ."

"It must have been a burst of magical energy. It's very possible that this is Kiritsugu's Noble Phantasm. But you were able to retrace her magic circuits?"

"Well – mostly . . ."

"Did it work?"

"You sure do ask a lot of questions."

"As the Overseer of the Grail War, one of my duties is to attend to her wellbeing. If she's too injured to use magic, I'll take her in until the end of the war to ensure her safety – "

"THE HELL YOU WILL!"

Kotomine chuckled at his outburst.

"So then – did it work? Your little operation – was it successful?"

". . . It wasn't perfect. Before, I would say her body was about seventy percent magic circuits. Now, it's about sixty-five."

"Ho – ho – ho! Even without your intervention, that girl would still have more magic circuits than you and I combined. Still, I applaud your efforts."

Rin sighed again.

"Well this is just great. We have a strong Servant who's handicapped by her bumbling Master, and a Master who's strong enough to use any Servant, but she can't use her own Servant because of his class. This isn't looking good . . ."

Kotomine chuckled.

"I think you still have a few advantages."

"Fine. Whatever. Come on Shiro, we'd best be going. The night's nearly over, and it will be getting light soon."

* * *

"Why did you help me", Shiro asked, as Kotomine showed them to the hall. "The son of a former enemy?"

"Why, my son, have you not read that we are to love our enemies?"

"You honestly expect me to believe that?"

"Think for a moment. Why is it that you want to win the Holy Grail War?"

"Well, I . . ."

"Is it not to protect your friends?"

"Of course!"

"And who then are your friends?"

"Well, Illya, Sakura, Tohsaka –"

"You're wrong. These are your enemies."

"But – "

Shiro moved to speak, but Kotomine cut him off again.

"You fought with them during the previous Grail War. The other Masters – you tried to defeat each other – even tried to kill one another –"

"Hmph!" Rin said, folding her arms. "If I had seriously tried to kill Shiro, he would already be dead!"

"- After all that you've been through, they are dearer to you, and they understand you in a way that is better than any of your so-called 'friends' ever could.

'So it is with me. There is no other person on this earth, living or dead, who could understand the position I am in better than Kiritsugu Emiya. I should very much have liked to have had a conversation with him. But instead, I will have to settle for speaking with his son."

Shiro looked at Kirei wonderingly as he unlocked the door.

"Do you suppose that he's still out there?"

For an answer, Kotomine reached up and caught a dagger by the handle, stopping its blade just inches from his face. He slashed right then left, then a little lower, right then left again, each time parrying another knife at the four corners of a box, at what the old fencing masters would call quarte and sixte, then septime and octave – the whole thing was done as neatly as an exercise. The black knives fell to the ground, skittering to a stop as harmlessly as the old leaves. Lastly, he took the knife he'd caught, and threw it with considerable force, so that its blade lodged deeply in the earth, in the shadow of the shadow that sat perched on the Churchyard gate.

"It's almost morning", he said cheerfully, ignoring the assassination attempt. "Time for you to go. After all, isn't that what shadows do in the light of day? They disappear – along with all of the other dreams and nightmares . . ."

"Eh – heh – heh"

The black wraith perched on the gate tilted its head.

The skull mask smiled.

And then it turned, and leapt away.

Just then, the dawn streamed in, transforming the nighttime landscape with its yellow light. The effect was beautiful, but it made Shiro wince, still accustomed as he was to the unlit basement.

"You shouldn't have any more problems", Kotomine said, still watching the place where the shadow had disappeared. "At least, not this morning. And besides, you've got your Servants with you."

Shiro nodded, then waited as Rin, Sakura, and Illya made their way out, before following after.

"Why are you helping him?" a voice asked as Kotomine stood watching, calling out to him from the shadowy recess within.

"Think about it – " Kirei answered. "The Holy Grail of Fuyuki City has appeared for what – about two hundred years? That's really not that long a time, even by the lives of men. It makes what? Six? Maybe seven generations.

'But what that boy is trying to do – he doesn't mean to fight the Servants – or even the other Masters. He intends to declare war on the Grail itself. A foolish undertaking, to be sure. But still, it endears him to me somehow."

* * *

"Shiro was absent today . . ."

Issei glanced at the empty desk, before making his way to the Student Council staffroom.

"And come to think of it, so was Rin Tohsaka."

The thought of Rin sitting at her desk in her tan school uniform, kicking her feet up and down in her white indoor slippers made him frown, and he wondered what evil power she must possess that she was able to ruin his mood equally well with both her presence and absence.

"I hope nothing's amiss . . ."

Then again, it was January, and bitterly cold. Flu season was in full force, and there was also a nasty cold going around, so several other students were also absent.

"Maybe I'm reading too much into things", he thought, putting his head down on the staffroom table as he tried to draw up enough energy to take an interest in his bento.

It was supposed to have been his lunch. But there were questions from several of the academic clubs, as well as the athletic committee, planning for the Fuyuki festival, and an errand or two to the teachers' lounge. Things were so busy, without Shiro stopping by, he had totally forgotten about lunch, until it was over.

"Hah – I get on Shiro's case, but in the end, I'm just as bad as he is."

It was true that Shiro spent what Issei considered an inordinate amount of time helping others, but in all honesty, he himself wasn't all that different.

Issei's day started early, helping his father with the temple. When he left for school, he got there early to make sure that there was time for any Student Council business, then spent most of the day on his studies. This was as much for the benefit of the class as for his own grades. As the Student Council President, he of course had to also be a model student. Various student and teacher questions would come up throughout the day, mixed in between and around his classes. Working through lunch was not unusual.

After school, there was typically at least another hour of things to do, and then it was home, where the rest of the evening would be spent on chores and homework. In the end, he spent very little if any time on himself.

Add to that all of his recent nocturnal activities, and the strain was beginning to get to him.

"Hahh . . ." Issei sighed again, looking up at his bento. He knew he ought to eat something, but he was so tired, he wasn't sure his mouth would even move.

He had nearly dozed off when he was disturbed by the sound of the door sliding open behind him.

"Ah, Emiya, I –" he started to say without thinking.

Seeing the purple haired figure in the doorway, he stopped short.

"Matou-san, is there something I can help you with?"

"Issei, there's something I'd like to speak with you about."

"What is it, Shinji?"

"It's about that mark on your left hand . . ."

* * *

"The . . . Holy Grail War . . ." Issei said when Shinji was done speaking.

"Yes. I fought in the last one – and I almost won, too. But there were some problems with my Servant. This time, Sakura's been chosen to participate – "

"Your little sister!?"

"Yes. I'm worried about her, as any brother would be –"

"I can't believe that Sakura – does Shiro know about any of this?"

"Well, there's more. You see, Shiro's a Master too . . ."

* * *

All the way home, Issei's head swam.

"Shiro's a Master . . ."

"Yes, along with Rin Tohsaka –"

"Tohsaka!"

"Yes. You could say she's actually something of a ringleader of sorts. The whole thing is run by the different Mage families. She's the one that got Shiro involved . . ."

Issei sat back in his chair. The whole thing was even worse than he'd thought.

"She really IS evil . . ."

Shinji nodded sadly.

"You said that the whole thing was hereditary – I don't think I'm part of one of the Mage families. I know most of the Ryudo family lore, and I've never heard anything like this."

Shinji shook his head.

"I don't really know. But my best guess is that it has something to do with the fact that Souichiro Sensei was also a Master. That, and the energy around the temple. Normally, something like that can't be passed on. But I don't think the last war ended properly. Normally there's a long time between wars. I think something went wrong with this one."

"And you said that the person who wins the War gets to make a wish?"

"That's right – both the Master and the Servant get a wish. It can be anything – anything they want. Has your Servant told you what her wish is?"

"No, she never said anything about it."

Shinji frowned.

"You should be careful. Sometimes a Master and a Servant's wishes don't agree or complement one another very well. I'm sure that if Shiro won the war, he would wish for something noble, and selfless –"

"No doubt."

"And if Sakura somehow managed to win, she'd probably wish for something silly, but harmless. But you can imagine, if someone like Tohsaka were to win the Grail –"

Issei shuddered.

"It would be a disaster."

Shinji put his hand on Issei's shoulder.

"Look, I don't really care about the Grail myself – I just want to protect my little sister – and my friends . . ."

Issei looked at Shinji's hand, then followed the line of his arm, up to his gently smiling face.

"When did Shinji get to be so kind hearted . . ?" he wondered.

Suddenly the events of the last few years all made sense.

"No wonder he became so distant! To think, all this time he was carrying such a burden, and I didn't even notice – he and Shiro both . . ."

"If we band together now, there's still time to stop her. I don't have a Servant, but I did fight in the last war. If we were to join forces –"

"I – don't know . . . This is all so sudden. Please – give me some time to think."

* * *

So he had said. But all the way home, his thoughts had been a blur, like the flurry of snowflakes that danced all round him. In the end, thinking had been the last thing he could do.

They were still swirling as he made his way up the temple steps, where Caster came into view. Seeing her, he recalled Shinji's words, and wondered if he ought to ask her about them.

"Why do you look at me so crossly, boy?" she said, seeing his sullen expression.

'Behold, the first fruits of your labors –"

And here she stretched out her arm. The staff in her hand began to glow.

A magic circle appeared in the grass, its blue light illuminating the snowflakes as they came wafting down. Every so often one of them would get caught in its perimeter, at which point it would evaporate instantly, becoming a little puff of steam.

"There, that should be enough power."

Next, she took out a strangely shaped knife, which she procured from somewhere beneath her robe.

"Do you know what this is, boy?"

Issei stared at the strangely shaped blade that wove sinuously back and forth – like the curves of a woman's body, beautiful and mysterious.

But of course he didn't know.

"It's a Noble Phantasm", she explained. "This one is called 'Rule Breaker' . . ."

And with a flick of her wrist, she turned the dagger in her hand, and plunged it into her side.

Issei lunged forward to stop her, but before he could reach her, she pulled it out.

"Ahh!"

She gasped as the blade withdrew, flinging the blood from its tip so that it landed squarely in the circle's midst. At once the blue light deepened, glowing fiercely until it became almost blinding. Issei threw up his arm to shield himself, the air around them crackling with the parting of space and time. And then, once more, the ritual was complete.

* * *

"AW, WHY THE HELL – "

"DID IT HAVE TO BE – "

"YOU ! ?"

Caster and the strange man shouted, finishing together in unison.

Issei stared at the newly summoned Servant. He was dressed in a close fitting blue leotard that hugged his muscular form. His hair was wild and dark, and a pair of tribal earrings hung pendant from the lobes of his ears, which only added to his barbarous appearance. In his hand he carried a red spear, decorated with an ornate scrollwork in the shape of vines that wrapped around its grip.

Evidently he and Caster knew each other.

"Sigh . . . I suppose that's what I get for waiting so long. All of the best Servants were taken. In the end, all that was left was you."

"Me!? A Servant to you!?"

"You answered my summons, didn't you?"

"And what in the HELL makes you think I'll serve YOU?"

"Because I'm your Master", she said smugly, tugging down her black glove to reveal the red mark on her left hand.

"And I'm Joan of Arc!"

"The hell you are!"

"My point exactly! I'll never serve you!"

"You will!"

"I won't!"

"I'll use a Command Seal – "

"I've resisted a Master with a Command Seal before."

"Why you cheeky Servant – "

"YOU'RE one to talk –"

Lancer folded his arms obstinately.

Caster sighed.

"Fine – I'll give you beer – "

"SOLD! Wait, I want whiskey – "

"Too bad! You've already agreed. And besides, I can't have you drinking whisky on the job – you'd get sloppy."

"Argh . . . I suppose you're right. Wait a minute – something's off – "

"What do you mean?"

"I remember you. An' I remember that I don't LIKE you – "

"And I don't like you either – "

"But Servants aren't supposed to remember each other from one war to the next."

"I'm certain I would find you equally distasteful in ANY time or place – with or without the memories of my past life – but you're right. There's something off about this Holy Grail War –"

"Holy Grail War . . ?" Issei said, remembering Shinji's words.

"No, boy, the World Cup – wait – you mean you don't know?"

"He doesn't know – "

"Know what?"

"You mean you haven't told him!?"

"Told him what?"

"Told me what!?"

"About the War – us Servants – ANYTHING!?"

"NO ONE HAS TOLD ME ANYTHING!"

Issei shouted, making Lancer and Caster both pause and stare.

"No one has told me anything – about this war, or Servants or Masters or the Grail or – or ANYTHING! All I know is that one day I hear a strange rattling noise and when I go to look I find you in my brother's room. I mean – what even are you? A ghost? A demon? Some sort of witch – "

At the word 'witch', Caster closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

Lancer winced.

"My dear boy –" she said, in a very measured, even tone. "There are only a small handful of men who have made the mistake of calling me that once . . ."

And here she held up the curved knife and turned it so that its edge glinted fiercely in the moonlight.

"No one has ever lived to say it twice."

Issei gulped.

"Sorceress is a good word . . ." she said, stalking slowly towards him.

"Wizard – Wise Woman – Seer – these are all acceptable choices . . ."

Issei watched the tip of the knife glitter as she gestured like a Maestro with a wand.

"Enchantress of Incomparable Beauty – now THAT has a nice ring to it . . ." she said, putting the fingers of one hand to her chin thoughtfully.

"I'm going to make an exception – just this once, and let the matter go – on the grounds of your ignorance and inexperience –" she said, pointing suddenly, so the dagger's tip was just beneath his chin.

"DON'T ever do it again."

Issei nodded carefully, still keenly aware of the dagger's proximity to his neck.

"I'd ixnay on the itchway if I was you", Lancer said, once she'd withdrawn – as if any additional clarification was needed.

* * *

"Well, there you go boy – that about does it . . ."

Lancer said when he had finished explaining the general rules of the Holy Grail War.

Issei sat on the edge of a nearby wall, still rubbing his throat occasionally to reassure himself that it had not been cut. Caster was standing a little ways off, her back turned to them, her attention absorbed in some piece of magical machinery.

"And now, my Master's Master, if you'd so kindly take one of those there Command Seals I told you about, and order Miss Enchantress of Incomparable Beauty here to stop orderin' ME around, I would be most grateful – "

"Don't you go getting him involved in any of your nonsense!" Caster said sharply, turning around to betray that in spite of her best efforts to appear to be ignoring them, she had in fact been listening.

"Don't listen to him, Issei. For all his bravado, at the end of the day he's just a little man with a sharp stick!"

"No look 'ere you! I've had just about enough of your spells an' bitchcraft!"

"My spells and – Why I – I ought to turn YOU into a frog!"

"Then I'd be a little FROG with a sharp stick, and a lot of good THAT would be. No, no – I'll do as you say, and guard your doors and windows – "

"The gate! Your task is to guard the gate! Argh – Kojiro was better than this – and he was based on a legend that didn't even exist! I hope your little stick breaks!"

"An' I hope YOU end up ridin a Kelpie bareback – and NAKED – in the middle of January – and I hope he dunks you in a river, too!"

Caster's mouth fell open, clearly at a loss for words. Lancer snickered triumphantly.

"That does it – I'm using a Command Seal –"

"Wait – " Issei said, desperate to break up the impending altercation.

"What is it?"

"Lancer said that the Master and Servant who win the war each get a wish."

"Yes, and?"

"Well, I thought I ought to know what your wish is – as your Master – " Issei said, tripping over the words.

"That's easy. I'll wish to bring Souichiro back –"

And here she reached to flip up her hood.

Or she would have. But Issei stopped her.

"Wait – " he said, catching her hand.

"I did NOT give you permission to touch me –"

"That's what I want – for my part. I want to see you without your veil. That will be my wish."

"You haven't won yet", Caster said, and she moved to pull her arm away, but Issei held her gloved hand tightly in his, mesmerized by the feel of her velvet fingers.

"AH, so THAT's how it is . . ." Lancer chuckled.

Caster frowned, then curled her lips in a mischievous smile.

"Suppose I humor you, and give you an advance. On your wish. Since you're going to win – After all, you've got me on your side, so how could it possibly be otherwise?"

"Ah ha!" Lancer jeered.

"But you see, there are limits to even my magic power. A Servant relies on her Master for the magic energy to sustain their form. It's easier for me remain as mist – a kind of shrouded, incorporeal haze. I don't have the power to remain like this all of the time – at least not yet.

'So I'll offer you a choice. Either you can see me like this, and to the rest of the world I'll be a phantom, and wear my veil – or else the world can see me as I really am, and I will wear my veil when I'm with you. Which would you prefer?"

"Eh . . ."

Issei recoiled as he thought it over. He tried turning to Lancer for help, but Lancer's face had suddenly become expressionless, his features as fixed as stone.

"I couldn't possibly – "

"But you have to – "

"But I – "

"Choose."

"Then – then I choose you. I choose to keep you for myself."

"Hmph!"

Caster withdrew her hand from his grasp, and flipped up her hood.

Issei stared at his empty palm, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"It was a test, boy." Lancer explained. "And you failed. What a woman really wants – "

"Is her own way", Caster finished for him. And with a flick of her wrist, she tossed him a golden coin.

"Consider it an advance. On your payment. As my Servant."

Lancer studied the gold piece curiously.

"It's enchanted. To any one you give it to, it will magically appear to be his own currency, from his own time and place. That'll buy you a beer anywhere – regardless of when or where you happen to get summoned to."

Lancer held up the coin in salute.

"Thank ye kindly Master!"

Caster smiled in amusement as she adjusted her hood. But she did not draw her veil.

"Well then, I s'pose I'll take my leave."

And so with an extra swagger in his step, and an extra gold coin in his pocket, he hefted his spear, and rested it on his shoulder, then started off down the path that led to the temple steps. He'd just drawn even with Issei, and paused to flash him a grin, when he suddenly paused.

"Wait a minute – "

"What is it now!?" Caster asked, more than a little annoyed as she looked up from the magical machine whose output she was adjusting.

"I've just remembered – "

"Remembered what?"

"All this time – I thought he looked familiar – but now I know. You're one of Shiro's friends, aren't you?"

"Wait – you mean YOU know Shiro Emiya?"

"Aye – fought with 'im I did – in the last Grail War. I killed 'im once – and tried to make it twice – and I'd kill him again now, too –"

Issei recoiled in horror at the strangeness of his words.

"It's nothing personal – I actually rather like the lad. Got spunk to 'im, he does. That's just how things are, in these here Holy Grail Wars. And you'd best be ready too – ready to do what needs to be done, when the time comes – "

"Enough!" Caster shouted, seeing the effect his words were having on her Master. "Off with you already!"

"Fine! I never did much like guard duty – it's too boring. But at least it's an easy job." And at this he began to whistle. "Ho – ho – ho, off to the wall I go! Such light work for a florin!"

Caster stood with her hands on her hips as she watched him depart, then turned back to Issei, who was still visibly shaken.

"Don't read too much into what Lancer says. I figured something like this might happen – after all, you're not like Souichiro, who would let me get away with anything."

"My – brother . . ?"

Caster put her hands on his shoulders, but Issei wouldn't look at her. Frowning, she took his face in her hands, and turned it until his eyes met hers. He was surprised to see how warm they were, and full of genuine concern.

"Listen – when the time comes, I can make the Grail appear – with or without the other Servants and Masters. But for now, I think this is enough for one night. Off to bed with you. I can't have you getting sick. Or else what kind of Servant would I be?"

* * *

Issei didn't really remember getting ready for bed, but it must have happened, for somehow he found himself standing in his room, wearing his pajamas.

He looked down at the object in his hand. It was a cell phone – not the latest model, but new enough not to be old, and certainly far from obsolete, but it seemed foreign now, as if this strange new world of spells and rituals had no time or place for modern convenience.

The number was old. Would it still work?

There was one way to find out.

He pressed send, and listened to the sound of the digital ringtone.

"It's late", he thought. "Probably no one will –"

Before he could finish the thought, he heard a click, and then the sound of a once familiar voice.

"Matou-san? Sorry it's so late, I –"

"Issei – is everything all right?"

"Yes. Shinji – I think we need to talk . . ."


	6. Chap 6 The Banner Of The Flying Dragon

Chapter 6 - "Beneath The Banner Of The Flying Dragon"

Shiro slept in that next morning, if sleep it could be called. For while his body lay dozing, his mind was awake and alive to another century.

"It's not uncommon for Servants and their Masters to share dreams", Rin had explained to him during the last Grail War. "You may well see memories from Saber's past life."

For all of the miseries of the previous war, this was one of the few things that he had missed. When the war had ended, Saber had remained behind, stranded in this world. And while he was certainly glad to have her with him, something about their time together had felt a bit distant, and cut off. He hadn't been able to see her dreams in any of that time – or had any of his own. Now that a new war had begun, it filled him with dread, but he was happy for the chance to renew their bond.

But the dreams she was having at that moment were a little awkward. At the moment he was standing in her bedroom.

"So these are Saber's memories . . ."

Strangely enough, he found that he could get up and move around, as if he were a person inside of her dream, instead of seeing things through Saber's eyes. The effect was not unlike being inside a reality marble.

He found the thought of looking around her bedroom a little embarrassing, but the idea of exploring a real life medieval castle was too much to resist. The interior of the room was surprisingly bright and cheerful, the walls being washed with a white plaster that gave everything a very light, airy feeling.

The door was barred with wooden planks, very serious and study looking – but the window, being set in the wall of the castle keep, faced an inner courtyard, and so was left open, covered only by a sheer white curtain that billowed slightly in the breeze.

Saber herself lay slumbering on the bed. She was dressed in a gown of white linen, with her blonde hair splayed out all around her.

"She looks like an angel . . ." Shiro thought, suddenly embarrassed in his own mind.

"Man, this is nothing like what I imagine when I think of the Dark Ages!" he said, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from her.

It occurred to him that all of the pictures he had ever seen in books or on TV shows were of castles that were in ruin.

"So this is what it was actually like to live in this time . . ." he thought, picking up a shield that stood propped in the corner.

He found the degree of workmanship surprising – far from being a crude chunk of wood, it was composed of several planks, sanded smooth and then expertly joined together. The edge was rimmed with steel, while the front was faced with leather, painted gold, and decorated with an image of a rearing blue lion. Beside it was a second shield, decorated like the first one, only the colors were reversed, so that instead of a blue lion on a gold background, it was marked with a gold lion surrounded by a blue border.

"I wonder if it's anything like having a home jersey and an away jersey for a baseball team?" Shiro thought.

"Trace on",

He hadn't really expected his powers to work here – not inside of Saber's dream – but to his surprise, a series of green lines fanned out over the body of the shield, tracing its components and materials.

"I wonder if I could make something like this with the Blade Works?" he thought. "I mean, I mostly just make swords . . ."

The complexity of wood, with its pattern of rings from the tree's growth, was completely different than the texture of steel. He noted the position of each of the rivets, as well as the placement of the leather handle straps, then let his magic disperse. Glancing at the back wall, he saw it held a rack with an assortment of spears and lances, along with a collection of battle axes and maces.

Seeing them made Shiro chuckle. Only Saber would consider weapons of war appropriate bedroom furniture.

"I guess she's the same in any age", he thought.

"Still, I wonder if she'd like something like this?" he said to himself, as he placed the shield back in the corner. He'd never known Saber to use a shield, but apparently in life she'd owned at least two of them.

"I guess as the King, she technically owned the contents of the entire armory."

As if to answer him, Saber stirred.

He heard her murmur, then watched her stretch her arms over her head, then out to her sides. And then she sat up.

"Yikes!"

As the covers fell away, he could clearly see that she wasn't wearing any pants under her gown.

It didn't appear that she could see him, but he could certainly see a lot of her, so he turned to the side as she reached for a pair of tights. She pulled on the royal blue hose, and then, with her typical lack of modesty, stripped off her gown, and tossed it on the bed, before going to stand in front of the mirror.

Her breasts had not yet taken on that fulsome generosity of a mature woman, but rather pouted atop her chest with all the defiance of youth. Saber eyed them critically, standing with her hands on her hips as she turned this way, and then that, and then cupped one with her hand, as if to judge the size and weight.

They may not have been exceptionally large or heavy, but to Shiro's mind, all of the weight of the world might as well have been in Saber's hand at that moment.

"Wait", he thought, distracting himself from his own guilt at staring at her so openly (even though he continued to stare anyway), "Saber's never been this interested in her own appearance. Maybe she was different back then . . ?"

"Hmm – they are a bit bigger. But they should still fit nicely under my breast plate. Ah well, as long as I can still swing a sword and they fit into my armor, I guess it shouldn't be a problem."

Shiro buried his face in his hand.

"I take it back – she wasn't any different at all!"

Saber patted her breast appreciatively, giving it a small bounce, then put on a white tunic, which she belted at the waist. She was in the process of tying on her sword when there came a knock at the door.

"Not wearing the royal robes today I see?"

At this, Shiro turned to see a woman of exceptional beauty standing in the chamber door. Her hair was long and flowing, of auburn brown, and coming down in waves, its long tresses hanging all the way down her back to her hips, and the beginnings of her thighs. Her skin was a milky white, appearing like crème wherever it showed at the edges of her dress – the delicate line of her wrist where it emerged from her sleeve, the shape of her ankle where it showed at the hem of her gown, and the faint hint of her collarbone where it disappeared beneath the robe's square neck.

At the sight of her, Shiro's face flamed hot.

"What the hell is wrong with me!?" he thought, embarrassed by his own lust.

After all, he had just seen Saber naked only moments before – well not all at once, but in two halves, anyway, and besides, he thought that she was much more beautiful – so what was it about this strange woman that captivated him so?

"Ah, Guin! They're too much of a pain. Besides, I think they look better on the rack anyway. They don't really suit me . . ."

At the sight of her long face, Guinivere frowned.

"Well *I* for one think you look very HANDSOME."

Saber rolled her eyes.

"Thanks! I think . . ."

At this they both shared a laugh.

"Seriously", Guinivere said, laying her hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "You're a good King."

"I'm an imposter."

"Hmph! You're a better 'Fake King' than any of the real ones I've ever met", Guinivere said defiantly, putting her hands on her hips. "And I've met quite a few . . ."

Saber smiled.

"So what has you up so early?"

"Launcelot came to visit."

"Ah – Lance! Give him my regards. And tell the others that I'll be down shortly. I'm just finishing up here."

"Would you like me to bring you up some breakfast?"

"No, I'll just get something in the hall. I'll be down soon enough. But thank you."

"Very well", Guinivere said, curtseying with a practiced grace. "I shall see my Lord at Court."

And with that she took her leave.

After she had gone, Saber took up her brush, and combed out the locks of her golden hair. The front and sides were rather short, but the back was long and flowing. This she took up, and wove into a braid, which she then wound atop the back of her head, weaving it into a plaited crown that was more beautiful than any band of metal and jewels could ever be.

She was just adding the finishing touches, and setting a few pins to help keep it in place, when there came another knock at her chamber door.

"Merlin!" she cried. "You're up early!"

"A wizard is ALWAYS early, my dear – "

" – except when he sleeps late!" Saber finished, and together they laughed at their shared joke.

"Why this is two visitors already this morning. Clearly this is going to be a wonderful day – "

Merlin frowned.

"I saw Guinivere in the hall . . ."

"Ah, yes. She came to tell me that Launcelot was here."

Merlin scowled.

"It has been noticed that Launcelot pays visits to the Queen early in the morning – "

"Bah! What of it?"

"VERY EARLY in the morning – "

"What's that to me? The whole thing is a ruse anyway. It's not like I care –"

"Other people DO", Merlin said sternly.

Saber rolled her eyes again.

"I told you that woman was going to be trouble – "

"What was I supposed to do? A King needs a Queen. It's what the people expect – "

"Always giving the people what they expect is not a wise strategy."

Saber sighed, then huffed.

"I had no choice. People were beginning to get suspicious. Besides – who ever heard of a Virgin King, anyway? Why, I'd be the laughingstock of the whole nation –"

"You'd be surprised. There might actually be a market for that kind of thing. I think the people would be rather taken with it. It would be a breath of fresh air – especially after the many dalliances of your father –"

"I happen to BE one of those dalliances, you know!" Saber retorted, pretending to be offended. "But not to worry. I could never live up to HIS reputation", she laughed, and Merlin laughed along with her.

"Uther Pendragon was many things, but discrete was not one of them. All the great houses of Britannia fought under his banner at one time or another – or against it. Why, even I once stood under the pennant of the flying dragon, sword in hand –"

"Wizards don't fight with swords!"

"They do when they're desperate!"

"Bah! Merlin with a sword! Next I suppose you'll tell me that you've fallen in love – "

"I did once – "

"Ohh – now THAT'S a story I should like to hear! I'm sure it would be much better than anything currently making the rounds with the bards and minstrels."

"I fear it would be a boring tale. Certainly not as exciting as any of your Father's . . ."

Together they laughed again.

"Uther had this unique ability to unite people behind him – and sometimes against him. But he was a good King. And a good friend."

Saber clasped her hands behind her back.

"So – why DID you help him . . ?"

Merlin's face darkened.

"I'm not angry", Saber said. "It's just – I've always wanted to ask. Why did you help him – when it came to my mother – if you knew how badly it would all turn out?"

The old wizard took a deep breath.

"The . . . affair with Igraine still troubles me, to this day. I was – younger then – in love with the idea of what I could do, and less concerned with the question of whether or not I should do it. But even then, I had the beginnings of an idea that it was going to be trouble.

'I suppose the real answer lies in the nature of Uther himself. Your father was the sort of man that would stop at nothing once he had set his mind to it. I knew that he was going to fight Gorlois, and pursue Igraine, with or without my help. With my help, at least, I figured he could be persuaded to show a measure of discretion, however small it may be. At the time, that seemed the lesser of two evils. But I'll confess, the matter still sits uneasily with me, even now.

'But then again, I wouldn't say it turned out all that badly. After all, it gave us you."

Saber smiled.

"I – only met him a couple of times, you know. And even then, I didn't know he was my father. At the time, I thought he was my uncle . . ."

"I apologize for the deception. It was necessary to protect you both."

"Even so – I genuinely LIKED the man. He was so honest in everything that he did – the way he ate and drank and laughed and fought and loved – I remember thinking, 'Such a man OUGHT to be King . . .'"

Merlin smiled softly.

"He wanted to legitimate you, you know. But the people would not have it. They could stomach a bastard King. And they could bear a woman having rule. But the idea of a bastard Queen was a bit too much for them . . . Though you wouldn't have been a bastard in the end. Gorlois was dead at the time that you were conceived. And Uther married Igraine only a few days later – well before you were born. In the end, I should say you missed out on bastardy by a good hour at least."

"Lucky me!"

"Indeed. So, it appears you've decided to turn a blind eye to Guinivere and Launcelot. But where does that leave the Succession, then?"

"I've already decided."

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"I shall leave everything to Mordred. As my "nephew", there can be no question as to the bloodline, so there should be no issues of legitimacy, when the time comes."

"I see. So Britain is to have two secret Queens, then. And you have no second thoughts about condemning poor Mordred to the same fate as yourself?"

Saber shook her head.

"Quite the opposite. When the time comes, I will have Mordred revealed as my niece. I'll explain that for reasons of succession, her identity was hidden until she had been formally acknowledged. She'll have to take a Prince Consort, of course – her husband won't be able to be King, but she'll be free to love, and free to marry, and her son can be King after her. I'll give her the chance to live the life that Father wasn't able to give me."

Merlin considered.

". . . I can tell that you've thought this through. But – where does that leave your own life? And what about your own love?"

Saber laughed.

"Bah! As if I have time for any of that!"

Merlin smiled gently again.

"Mmm, well, enough of this. Let us talk of something more immediate, rather than the far off future. What are her Lordship's plans for today?"

"Ah, yes", Saber answered, grateful for the change of subject. "For today, I thought that I would go out hunting."

Merlin stared at her incredulously.

"Arturia – "

"I've got a new falcon that I would like to try out –"

"Ahem. Your Majesty –"

"And there are reports that the White Stag has been seen –"

"But your Highness –"

"It's very rare. Maybe only once or twice a year is the White Stag seen – and some years it isn't seen at all. I thought it would be nice to get Sir Bohrs and Sir Bedivere together – and of course we'll invite Sir Ector and Sir Kay, and –"

"YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS ARTURIA PENDRAGON !"  
"Wha – what is it?" Saber asked timidly.

"A Monarch's duty is to stay at home and keep Court with her people!"

"But – but why!? I mean – it's not like there's a war going on. There aren't any battles –"

Merlin squinted at her out of one eye.

"But my falcon – "

He leaned against the dresser and turned to squint at her out of the other eye.

"And the White Stag . . ."

Merlin was unmoved.

"Fine, I'll go . . ."

At this the old wizard sighed in relief.

"You know . . ." she said, pausing at the chamber door, "I could have left that stupid sword sticking out of that damned rock. I could have left it right where I found it . . ."

"Aye, you could have, Merlin said gently. "You certainly could have . . . But you didn't, did you?"

He smiled softly, and once again, she couldn't help but smile with him.

"No, I most certainly did not. Fine, off to Court I go . . ." she sighed again, and would have gone out the door.

"Oh, Arturia", Merlin called. "Surely you aren't planning to go downstairs dressed like THAT, are you?"

* * *

A short while later a very royal and most certainly regal – but decidedly uncomfortable looking Arturia Pendragon appeared in the Great Hall of the Castle Camelot.

Around her shoulders was a velvet robe, royal blue in color, its borders edged with tufted black and white ermine fur that came up to her chin.

"For years, Tyrian Purple was the standard color", Merlin had explained. "Going all the way back to the old Empire.

'But after the Empire fell apart, it was simply too difficult and too expensive to maintain. That, and it smelled awful! The whole thing was dyed with decomposing snails! A horrible process for such a lovely color, don't you think?"

"Ugh", Saber answered, making a face.

"A number of the old historians make mention of the stench of the Imperial robes. Why it was so bad, the Hebrews even had a law that a woman was permitted to divorce her husband if he took up the profession, after they were married. Perhaps I could inform Guinivere that you're contemplating a career change – there might be hope for you yet!"

"Very funny", Arturia grumbled.

"Afterwards, on the Continent, Imperial scarlet became the new standard, but Royal Blue is an excellent choice. It's very practical. And it suits you."

At the moment, Arturia did not feel like it suited her at all. She was so swaddled up in the royal robes that she could barely move. She glanced down at the ermine fur around her neck.

"Such a pity that so many of the little things had to die – and for what? To make up the border of a King's robe? To satisfy some stupid tradition?"

But then again, she thought, how many men gave their lives for matters of borders in a King's wars?

"His Majesty, the King of Britain, Arturius Pendragon!" the Herald shouted as she strode into the Great Hall, accompanied by a hasty blast from the buglers' coronets. The sound made her turn and stare angrily.

"Oh well, he's just doing his job", she said to herself. "But just once, it might be kind of nice to walk into a room without anyone noticing again", she thought, as she clutched the royal robes around her. They may not have been comfortable, but they were heavy and thick – thick enough to conceal the petite shape of her breasts that lay bound beneath them, along with her thoughts, and all the rest of her hopes and dreams.

The ermine fur felt soft between her fingers.

"Come little ones – we might both be equally doomed – but we shall go into battle together!"

* * *

At the Herald's call, all in the Hall dropped to one knee.

"Rise!" Arturia said, gesturing with her arms.

With the King's permission, the buzz of conversation resumed. Although it was still rather early, already the Great Hall was full of guests. There were Knights and their Squires, along with pageboys and attendants, noble Ladies and their ladies in waiting, and an assorted array of bards and minstrels, as well as a few merchants and tinkers who had been admitted based on the novelty of their wares. Together they made a throng that buzzed all around her. Beyond, Saber could see the curved edge of the Round Table.

"Are you sure about this?" Merlin had asked, when she first proposed the idea. "It can be dangerous for a King to share power."

"Yes. Of all the things that I'm uncertain about, this isn't one of them."

Merlin may have been a Wizard, but in the end it was Arturia who proved to have the gift of prophecy in this matter. In a short while, the fame of the Round Table had spread throughout all of Britannia, to the neighboring countries of Ireland, Scotland, and Wales, and even to the Continent across the sea. The greatest Knights and warriors of all the lands had come from near and far to be counted among its members – some of them Kings in their own right, but when they sat around it, all were alike, for the Round Table had neither head nor foot, nor sides nor corners. When they sat down at its borders, all of them were equal.

Arturia looked at the names written above each seat in gold letters. There was a place for Sir Bedivere and Sir Ector, who were among her most trusted companions, along with Sir Bohrs, and her adoptive brother, Sir Kay. Her own name was proudly scrolled above her own seat, and not far off were the seats of Sir Gawain, one of the fiercest of their company, and Sir Gareth, who had only recently been revealed to be Gawain's younger cousin, for he had hidden his identity in order to make a name for himself with his own deeds, rather than be admitted to their company based upon the name of his family.

There was the Siege Perilous, which made all men quake, for all who sat in it met with some misfortune, and nearby, the seat of the strongest Knight of them all.

"Launcelot!" Guinivere called as the famed Knight of the Lake made his way across the hall. Turning, Arturia caught sight of a young man with flowing black hair. His locks were dark, but his expression cheerful, so that just the sight of him brought joy to everyone in the hall – especially Guinivere.

Almost everyone.

"You're here early", Gawain said, regarding the young Knight with suspicion.

"Indeed", Launcelot answered, bowing deferentially.

"It's a long ride from Du Lac to Camelot to be here first thing in the morning", Gawain pressed.

"Indeed!" Guinivere retorted. "My Lord must have ridden very hard and very fast to be here so early!"

Gawain looked like he was about to choke upon his own rage.

"Launcelot!" Arturia called, eager to break things up.

"My Liege", Launcelot answered cordially, and his voice continued to be cheerful. But his eyes would not meet hers. And when she looked at him, a dark shadow passed over his face.

* * *

As Shiro watched, another shadow descended. The sky grew gray, and his vision dark. For a moment he did not know where he was.

Gradually, he became aware of a sense of motion. He could tell that he was lying on his back, and the whole world seemed to be swaying all around him.

Outside there was murmuring – was it weeping?

He heard a gentle splash, and then a rippling, followed by the sound of falling water – and then a splash again.

It was the sound of an oar moving in the water.

"A boat . . ." Shiro said, suddenly making sense of the way the world was moving all around him.

Opening his eyes, he could see Saber lying propped against one of the bulwarks. A grievous wound was in her chest, while black blood streamed from the corner of her mouth.

"Saber!" he shouted, taking hold of her hand, but it was no use. She could neither see nor hear him.

It was as if he were a ghost.

Outside, Merlin was berating someone.

"You FOOL ! Why didn't you act sooner!? Her wound is already growing cold . . ."

Looking out from behind a white curtain, Shiro could see the shore as it moved away from them, slowly getting lost in a white haze.

On the other side was an island, its terraced slopes verdant and green. A tall tower rose from its midst.

With each stroke of the oars, the tower grew steadily closer and closer.

"Hahnn . . ."

Saber called, making Shiro run to her side again.

"Guin . . . Guin . . . I'm – so sorry, Guin . . ."

Shiro took hold of her hand, and pressed it.

"I'm here Saber – I'm here", he said, though he doubted she could hear him.

"And Lance – my old friend . . . what's wrong with me? I can't feel anything – I can't feel anything at all. Even back then, I could never feel anything . . . The only one I've ever felt anything for – anything at all – was him . . ."

* * *

With those words, the whole vision dissolved like a spell, disappearing into a black and white swirl that then resolved into the grey light of morning.

Shiro was in his room, in his futon, his hand outstretched, still able to feel Saber's fingers between his own.

"Hrmm . . ." he sighed, sitting up in his bed. "Such a strange dream . . . But still . . . I wonder who it was that Saber was in love with?

* * *

When Shiro emerged from his room, he was greeted by a pleasant smell, along with a sizzling sound that filled the hallway. By the time he got to the kitchen, he could see that Sakura already had breakfast well underway.

"Oh! Sakura! You didn't have to –"

"It's fine, Sempai. I don't mind – "

"I know that, but –"

"Really, it's fine. You're always taking care of everyone else. And Tohsaka-sempai works so hard devising such clever plans. And Illya is still recovering. This is about the only thing that I can do, so please, let me do what I can."

Put that way, he felt like he had no other choice, and so Shiro rather sheepishly took a seat at his own table.

Saber had already come down.

"Of course she'd be early when food is involved", he thought to himself. He wondered if Saber had had the same dream. If she did, it clearly had no effect on her appetite. She'd already finished off one bowl of miso soup and was working on a second, along with a steaming bowl of rice.

No doubt if she was asked she would have had some very practical reason for why she had started early, without waiting for the main course, or anyone else.

"In battle one can be attacked at any moment, and so we must eat whenever we can – procrastination is the enemy", she would have said, or something like it – but Shiro knew that the real reason was that she just liked to eat, and wasn't about to miss an opportunity.

Still, seeing her sitting there, piling it away as usual, he couldn't help but smile.

"At least SOME things are still normal around here . . ."

Rin was also present. She was already fully dressed, and had tied up her hair, which as the host made him feel very self-conscious about his own pajamas.

Illya sat opposite her. The large bandage on her left arm was gone, replaced by two passes of lightly wrapped gauze that loosely covered the back of her hand, with its Command Seals. Seeing it, Rin scowled.

"Though still, I guess this is progress", she thought, as Sakura set down three more bowls of miso soup and steamed rice, then momentarily excused herself.

All in all, it was a rather gloomy morning, and they had slept so late that already it was threatening to become afternoon. But the rice was soft and the soup was warm, so that in the end, Shiro could not help but be cheered by it.

Returning to the kitchen, Sakura took up the blue apron that Shiro usually wore, and draped it over her neck. Seeing her hands upon the strings, he suddenly remembered.

"Sakura, wait!" Shiro shouted, jumping up with a suddenness that made them all start as he went dashing off to his room.

He returned again holding a plastic bag with a small package.

"I – I'm sorry – I got this before everything started, but with all that's been going on, until now I totally forgot", he said, handing the bag to Sakura, who took it questioningly.

"I probably should have wrapped it . . ."

Sakura looked at the bag while Saber, Rin, and Illya all leaned in close, straining to see.

Inside was a new apron.

"Such a pretty shade of purple – " Illya said sharply.

Sakura recoiled.

"But Sempai – I – I like this one just fine, so –" she said, clinging to the blue apron defensively.

"But you're over here so much, and I'm sure the last thing a girl would want is to wear some guy's sweaty apron.

Sakura blushed as Rin, Illya, and Saber all stared daggers at her.

"Consider it a present. To celebrate your graduation."

"My – graduation?"

"Yes – from the Shiro Emiya school of cooking. Really, you've gotten so good, I don't think there's anything more I can teach you –"

"Sempai – I – "

"I'll be the judge of that!" Saber shouted, banging her hand on the table, making them all laugh.

And so, for the moment, all out war was averted.

The other girls' murderous glares aside, the breakfast – or was it lunch? At this hour, it was hard to tell – that Sakura set before them truly was impressive. Along with the steamed rice and hot miso soup that served as a kind of appetizer (though there was still plenty left for seconds – or in Saber's case, even thirds) – there was also bacon, rolled egg omelets, salad, and grilled fish.

Just the sight of it, not to mention the smell, was enough to lift Shiro's spirits. Thankfully it seemed to have the same effect on the rest of the group as well.

"For all that's happened, we still don't have any idea who the other Masters are – much less their Servants", Rin lamented, gesturing with her chopsticks in a moment of uncharacteristic impoliteness. Such rude table manners were unlike her, but it made Shiro glad to see her so animated, and once again taking an interest in their plans.

"At least we've seen Assassin", Illya offered helpfully, hoping her brief deception would no longer be remembered. The gambit worked.

"That's true", Rin agreed, reaching for a piece of the rolled omelet. "He's clearly a Hasan, but then that's to be expected – oh wow! These really are good!"

Sakura bowed deferentially.

"Why is that to be expected?" Shiro asked, taking advantage of the momentary pause while Rin finished chewing and updating her mental notes to treat Sakura as a more formidable opponent.

"The last Grail War with Sasaki Kojirou was something of an anomaly", Rin explained once she'd finished taking a sip of her juice. "Normally the Assassin is almost always one of the Hasans. Their order, the Hashashin, is where the term assassin originated, and their clan ran for generations, so it's practically guaranteed that they will participate."

"I see . . ." Shiro said thoughtfully. "I guess there's still so much I don't know even now about the Holy Grail War."

"All of the great families have been accounted for. And to Illya's point, we've seen Assassin. That just leaves Lancer and Caster."

"Do you think the other Masters were chosen at random?" Illya asked.

Rin shook her head.

"I doubt it. In the last war, everyone thought Shiro was just some sort of wild card – even me. But it turned out that he had very good reasons for being allowed to become a Master. No – it may not be obvious now, but there'll be some connection – I'm sure of it. It's just a matter of finding it out."

"Hmm, someone with connections to the previous Grail War . . ." Shiro thought. "What about Shinji? He fought in the last war, as a Master –"

"There is no way that Shinji could possibly be a Master", Sakura said. Her voice was sudden, and filled with a surprising sharpness. "He has no magic at all. During the last war, a magical artifact was used to give him the ability to temporarily control a Servant. He himself did not have a Command Seal. In the end, he never really was a Master."

Rin and Shiro exchanged a look.

"Well, that pretty much rules out everyone at school", Shiro said. "At this point, I don't know what else to do, short of just wandering around town and hoping we run into something."

"That's actually not far off from what I had in mind", Rin said, smiling haughtily as Shiro stared at her in disbelief. "It isn't very efficient, but what other choice do we have? And besides, we do still have a couple of advantages in this respect."

Rin paused, making Illya, Shiro, and Sakura lean in close, enjoying every moment of their suspense, while Saber took advantage of the occasion to sneak another omelet.

"Archer can see for a very great distance", she said, taking a sip of her tea. "It's one of the benefits of his class. He can practically see from one side of the town to the other, and still with enough detail to count the rivets in the side of every building.

'Given his talents, I suspect that Kiritsugu would have a similar ability. Illya, do you think you could manage it?"

"Father can't really talk, but we can communicate, and his senses are sharp. I'm sure it won't be a problem."

"Good. Somewhere like Fuyuki Bridge would be ideal. That should give a good view of the entire surrounding area. Meanwhile, I'll take Archer up to the top of Fuyuki Tower, and have a look around."

"I can take Rider, and we can use her chains to climb up to the top of the Neo Fuyuki Tower in the next neighborhood over", Sakura offered. "We should be able to see just about anything from up there, and if anyone gets into trouble, we can rush to help."

"Excellent! Sakura, I'm impressed. You and Rider go to the top of the new tower, then. That should give us excellent coverage."

"Hai!"

"That just leaves Saber and Shiro –"

"I'm afraid I won't be much help with this", Saber said a bit sheepishly.

"Nonsense. Our job is to identify the enemy and their Servants. You just be ready when the time comes. In the meantime, you could always accompany one of us. I was thinking –"

"I could go along with Illya, since she's still recovering!", Shiro volunteered helpfully.

Rin frowned.

"I'm sure Illya will be just fine. On second thought, I have another idea. During the last war, Shiro helped me identify the locations of a barrier that Rider had put up at school. He was actually very good at it –"

Shiro beamed at the compliment.

"- he gets very queasy whenever anything like that is near. It's a rare gift. Saber, why don't you take Shiro into town, and have a look around. Whenever he starts to feel ill, just dunk him in a nearby fountain, and then note the location and report back –"

"Hey!"

"Don't worry Shiro", Saber said reassuringly. "I actually got terribly sick the first time I learned to ride a horse. All of the bouncing didn't agree with me. You've got nothing to be embarrassed of."

Shiro made a long face.

"Thanks – I think . . ."

"Well", Rin smiled, "we've all got our marching orders. For now, there's nothing more to do than to wait until it gets dark."

* * *

Issei stared at his reflection in the mirror, trying to pretend he could still recognize the person who stared back at him.

"How does one dress for such a thing as a Holy Grail War?", he wondered.

The black figure who stared back at him did not answer.

At first he had thought he would wear a priest's robe, and even tried one on that belonged to his father, but now, seeing his reflection, that all seemed much too silly, as if he were trying to be some sort of superhero.

"Now all I need is a cape", he thought, holding up the priest's staff, and shaking it so that its rings jingled.

He remembered hearing somewhere that on the path to enlightenment, a monk could sometimes gain supernatural powers. This was considered a grave danger, and the initiated had to be very careful not to get distracted, and be misled from their true calling.

Issei highly doubted that he was in any such peril. He certainly hadn't developed any magical abilities, and besides, he wasn't a real priest anyway. But it did raise the question.

"How does one fight in a Holy Grail War?" he wondered.

He didn't have a black belt, but he knew a bit Ryudo-ryu, the art that some of the monks practiced, and swore was a closely guarded secret of the Ryudo Temple – though Issei thought it looked suspiciously like modern day karate. He knew how to punch, and how to kick, and how to throw someone over his shoulder as in judo – but that was about it. If they were seriously attacked, he had no earthly idea what he should do. Were things like punching and kicking even applicable in a Holy Grail War? Perhaps he should wear some hakama pants.

His high school uniform seemed out of the question. He'd worn it all day, and besides, he didn't want to risk being recognized, and possibly bringing shame upon his school, or his family.

The thought of going in disguise, like some sort of character from a bad high school manga not wanting to be recognized by a rival school seemed comical. And the idea of himself as a thug or delinquent was even more laughable, to the point that he actually laughed out loud.

"Maybe I should bleach my hair while I'm at it", he chuckled.

But still that left him with no idea of what to wear.

In the end, he decided on a black neru shirt with a standing collar, and a simple pair of black slacks – only to realize that this looked woefully like a cross between his normal high school uniform and a priest's dismal robes.

"Man, I have no life at all", he thought as he shut the door behind him, and made his way out onto the lawn.

Outside, Caster was busy with another of her magical devices. This one consisted of several sets of uprights, arranged in a row like a series of goal posts for American football. Each was connected by a cable that ran to a central machine that Caster was fussing over, tinkering with one of its adjustments.

This was the part that he'd been dreading the most.

* * *

"What do you mean, formed an alliance!?" Caster shouted, just in time for Shinji to hear her as he puffed his way up the temple steps.

He wasn't used to them, and he'd found the last stretch particularly exhausting, so that he doubled over, and fought to remain standing. As he stood panting, Issei took note of his clothes – a pair of jeans with a long sleeved collared shirt, and over them a simple jacket – decidedly pedestrian and unmysterious.

Caster continued her tirade.

"What the HELL were you thinking, entering into such an agreement – and without consulting ME!?"

"I – I just thought it would be good to have allies", Issei said, desperately trying to defuse the situation.

"Allies! YOU FOOL – in this type of war there ARE no allies! Only enemies and MORE ENEMIES!"

"I'm sorry, I – "

But Caster put up her hand and would not hear him.

"You want to do things on your own? FINE! But don't you come crawling back to ME when you run into another Master who actually has some IDEA of what they're doing, and you get yourself KILLED!"

Issei tried to entreat her further, but she would have none of it. In the end, there was nothing more he could do, other than look at Shinji apologetically, then turn and hurry down the temple steps.

* * *

"Don't you think you're being just a little bit hard on him?" Lancer asked, as Caster furiously adjusted the levers and dials of her machine. "Sometimes a young man wants to go off and try to show he's capable of doing things on his own – especially when he damn well knows he can't do ANYTHING on his own . . ."

"He's being a FOOL!" Caster said obstinately.

"Aye, he is. But aren't you the least bit worried about him?"

Caster sighed.

"I'll send my golems", she said, without looking up. "They can keep an eye on him. That should be enough to keep him out of trouble, and they can alert me if anything serious happens. I trust you'll be able to defend us while they're away?"

For an answer, Lancer twirled his spear, enjoying the breeze the blade made as it whirled past his shoulder.

"I'd welcome a fight. I'm getting tired of all this standin' around."

Caster smiled.

"Very well. Let's get back to work then", she said, turning once again to the strange contraption she'd set up.

"Are you sure you want me to use it? A Servant can only use their Noble Phantasm so many times, you know?"

"Hmph! Nonsense – Command Seals are limited. But I'm not giving you an order. I'm merely asking – as your Master – if you would help test it for me. If it's a question of magical power, you needn't worry – with ME as your Master, you can have as much power as you like! Why, if need be, I'll drain all of the magical energy in this city! Every man, woman, and child!"

"Pah – you aren't as bad as all that. I remember the last war – for all your talk, and settin' up a barrier, in the end, you didn't actually KILL anybody. You may act all mean and tough, but you're not evil."

Caster smirked.

"Don't misunderstand me. Fate, it would seem, has once again destined me to play a villain – and so I shall be a most damnable villain – but that doesn't mean I have to be wretched or vile. So then", she said, holding up her left hand as her Command Seals glowed.

"Very well, Master. As you wish."

And with that, Lancer hefted his spear. Drawing it back, he stretched out his other hand with a balance and grace not even an Olympic athlete could match.

"G – A – Y - E –"

He shouted, a ball of red light forming around the head of the spear, as it drew in all of the magic energy from the surrounding area.

Lancer took two quick steps.

" – B – O – L – G !"

And with that he hurled the spear.

Its flight was true, passing in a straight line through each of the uprights. The red streak issued forth from the top of the mountain, then shot out, over the town, and beyond – out over the sea.

"AMAZING!" Caster shouted, looking at the sheet of parchment that shot out from the side of the machine. "So this is a Noble Phantasm's power!"

Lancer made a small bow.

Overhead, the stars twinkled as the red light dissipated, and the rumble of its thunder faded into the distance.

Lancer waited a moment more, then held out his arm.

From afar, there came a whirling sound. All around them, the air seemed to exhale in a gentle breeze. And then that breeze became a mighty wind. Amidst the rushing, the red spear could be seen, clattering as it came twirling towards him, until it struck Lancer's palm, where his grip held it fast. For this was among the spear's abilities – first, that when it was thrown, it could not fail to find its target, and second, that even as a Servant is bound to obey its Master, so too the legendary spear could not fail but return to its Master's hand.

"Hmm, interesting . . ." Caster said, pouring over the readouts. "Very interesting. But it's still not enough. We're going to need more power . . ."

* * *

Sakura looked out from her place on the roof of the Neo Fuyuki Tower. Her Servant, Rider, didn't have the gift of supernatural sight like Archer or Kiritsugu, and her own magic was of a different sort, so she'd resorted to buying a pair of binoculars from a nearby store.

She'd asked for something small and discrete that would fit in her purse.

"Oh, are you going on a date? It must be a very special show!"

"Hai."

It wasn't entirely untrue. But the show that she was planning on watching was of a decidedly different nature.

"These are very popular for an opera, or the theatre. They have ruby lenses."

The clerk's comments made her think of Rider's own red eyes, hidden behind her mask. There was a bookstore nearby, which Rider seemed to have some awareness of, and perhaps even an attachment to. Sakura had followed her gaze, noting her interest, and offered that they could pay it a visit, but she had declined.

The thought of her Servant having this little secret made Sakura smile, and she found the idea that she had some sort of life outside of their pact pleasing to her.

"Would you like to have a look?" she asked, holding up the binoculars in her direction.

"No thank you, my Lady", Rider answered, putting her hand over her chest and bowing formally.

Perhaps it was for the best. The thought of Rider holding the binoculars up to her mask seemed ridiculous. For that matter, she had no idea what the world for Rider looked like. Could she see color? Shapes? Perhaps she could see right through the mask. Or perhaps she couldn't see at all. Maybe she did everything by sound, and had an exceptional sense of hearing. Sakura had never thought to ask, and it seemed rude to ask now.

Her own eyes had a dull cast to them – lifeless and hollow – though they brightened when Shiro was around – a fact she secretly hoped he would notice, though one she fought to conceal.

"Someone who sees without seeing", she thought to herself, "and someone who pretends not to see at all."

The ruby lenses weren't as good as Archer's abilities, or the scope of Kiritsugu's rifle, but they did the trick. From her place on the rooftop, she could clearly see the edge of the old, original Fuyuki tower, with its red signal light blinking. The new tower had been built as a broadcast station to anchor the surrounding neighborhood. It was a very up and coming sort of place, full of shops and restaurants and corner bars and apartments – all very trendy and desirable to younger people. It was also a popular destination for couples.

Word had it that if someone confessed their love to you on a date to the tower – especially on Christmas Eve or New Year's – that your future happiness was virtually guaranteed.

To date, Sakura had received no such proposals.

Not that it really mattered. In the end, the Neo Fuyuki Tower was kind of pointless. The old tower already had its own TV channel, with a broadcast station and a radio antennae. And it was already full of offices and apartments and shops and restaurants and date spots. Everything the new tower could do, the old tower could do just fine on its own. In the end, the new tower was useless.

But then again, Sakura didn't work in an office. She didn't have a job, and she couldn't afford an apartment. She never went to restaurants, she rarely went shopping, and she hardly watched TV. And no one ever asked her out on a date. In the end, the old Fuyuki Tower was just as useless, too.

Sakura trained her binoculars away from the old tower, and out onto Fuyuki Bridge, whose graceful red archways made several broad sweeps out across the water, and on to Fuyuki Island. It made an excellent vantage point to watch anyone coming or going to or from the city, and she wondered if Illya was having any success there.

Off to the left was Fuyuki International Airport, which had been built right on the water using another small island that had been widened with land reclaimed from the sea. She watched the planes taking off and landing, and wondered if it made the passengers nervous to be touching down and lifting off right over the water.

To the right was the harbor district, full of barges and container ships along with truck yards and rail lines and warehouses and docks – all of the ugly machinery of industry. Out in the middle of the water, one small ship sat on its own.

Focusing the lenses, she could see the deck was lined with row upon row of strange containers and tubes. What were they? They looked like some kind of ordinance – mortars, or guide rails for missiles. Was someone about to launch an attack?

Several men patrolled the deck. They had a very official air about them, judging from their manner, and the insignia of their uniforms. A few of them wore badges, while one of the other men had a suit coat, and was gesturing to the others, explaining something. The whole thing made her uneasy, but they seemed far too relaxed to be investigating a bomb threat.

She was about to motion to Rider, when suddenly she remembered something she'd heard on the television while Shiro was making dinner. It had been announced that the New Year's Fuyuki Festival had been pushed back several weeks, and along with it the yearly fireworks display. The men on the deck of the ship were no doubt firemen, performing some sort of safety inspection, and the contents of the strange packages and tubes must have been the fireworks that were being set up for the show.

Sakura could remember hearing the story, but they never said why the festival had been delayed. Was it the Grail? She remembered how last year, during the previous Grail War, there had been a series of gas leaks, and other strange events around town. Perhaps this was something similar? Or perhaps the festival had been delayed for some simpler, more mundane reason.

Overhead, the stars twinkled above, while the city lights twinkled beneath. From a distance, they both looked alike, and equally beautiful. At this height it was impossible to see their innate human ugliness.

Sakura lowered the binoculars from her eyes. She took the cloth that had come with them, and wiped their lenses, then replaced their covers, before placing them back in their case, which she tucked into the corner of her bag.

Turning, she made her way over to the center of the roof, where she paused beside the door.

"Are we leaving our post so soon, my Lady?" Rider asked, making her smile at her politeness.

"Come on, Rider", Sakura said. "There's something I need to do."


	7. Chapter 7 - A Butterfly's Effect

Fate Stay Night – Unlimited Boob Works

Chapter 7 – "A Butterfly's Effect"

"Is that some sort of – compass?"

Issei asked as Shinji opened a small wooden box he'd taken from his bag.

"You've got a good eye", Shinji beamed good naturedly. "It's a magic artifact. I borrowed it from my Grandfather. It shows sources of magical energy. If a Master or their Servant is nearby, this should pinpoint their location."

Issei watched with interest as Shinji set the compass up, taking the needle and attaching it to the dial.

"That seems like the sort of thing she would like . . ." he said wistfully, remembering his argument with Caster.

"What's that?"

"Oh, nothing . . ." Issei answered, watching as Shinji poured in a vial of blue liquid that seemed to be the source compass' power.

"Whoa!" Shinji exclaimed.

Almost immediately the needle began to move.

"Is that unusual?" Issei asked, confused by his friend's perplexity.

"Usually it takes a while to pick anything up. For it to start working so quickly, either the source is very nearby, or the amount of magical energy must be enormous!"

Issei watched as the compass needle turned steadily, moving towards him, then past, settling at a point off to his left.

Shinji chuckled self-assuredly.

"Maybe this is going to be easier than I thought."

* * *

Sakura surveyed the apartment complex from a safe distance. The building was rather nice – nothing fancy, but decent enough, and in a good neighborhood. The end of it faced a small plot of common ground, flanked on each corner by a group of evergreen trees whose leaves had made a rich orange carpet. Off to the left was a parking lot, and a large dumpster. Together with the trees a small section of privacy fence did its best to hide this bit of necessary ugliness.

The building itself was covered with plastic siding in a neutral color, either grey or almond – in the dim light Sakura couldn't say just which. Each unit had its own small balcony, fitted with a pair of sliding doors that lead inside. The unit that they were interested in was on the third floor, but that of course was nothing for Rider.

Putting up her hand, she let forth one of her chains, bringing them up and over the railing, landing so lightly that they scarcely made a sound.

Sakura peered in through the sliding glass doors. They were fitted with a set of vertical blinds that were half drawn, and through them she could see the interior of the room beyond. Its contents were quite a mess. Laundry carpeted the floor, most of it dirty, while every available surface was littered with the remains of some past meal. There were empty noodle cups, used chopsticks, takeout bags and boxes, and Styrofoam trays, along with an entire cabinet's worth of dirty plates, bowls, knives, forks, and spoons.

Bags of trash were lined up alongside a computer desk. The first few of them were neatly stacked, hinting at some original intent of order, but they had long since tumbled over into the madness of chaos.

A collection of objects at the back of the room suggested that things were not always so.

There was a rack that held several bows. Most of them were out in the open, but the one at the top lay slumbering in a black bag whose tied off end suggested that its contents were especially fine. Along with them was a collection of arrows, feathers for their fletchings, and spare strings, as well as chest protectors, and gloves to protect the hand.

A small bookcase held a collection of trophies, plaques, and medals, along with a ceremonial arrow head of the kind one sees at the dedication of a shrine. One of the shelves was devoted entirely to pictures, most of them of a young girl. She had long, flowing brown hair, and a radiant smile. In one of them she was holding a bow at full draw, very stern and serious looking, while another was made comical by the contrast between the traditional lines of her kyudo uniform and the broad grin she was flashing as she held up two fingers in the victory sign. There were team photos that showed a progression through middle school, and then to high school, with various meets and competition events, while one or two had nothing to do with the sport at all, but seemed to be taken from some sort of school trip to a very mountainous looking area. In all of them she looked happy – so very happy.

The subject of the photos was in the middle of the room. She was sitting on a computer chair with her legs drawn up, hugged against her chest, and her chin buried in her knees. Her brown hair, which had once been so beautiful beneath her bandanna, hung down on either side of her face, plastered to her cheeks in a greasy mess.

Her only clothes were a t-shirt and a pair of underwear, neither of which looked like they had been washed in a long time. The sole source of illumination in the dark room came from the computer monitor, whose sickly light only served to make her pale skin that much more unhealthy looking.

Sakura tried the door. She'd considered having Rider pick the lock, or else use her magic to put everyone in the unit, or possibly the entire building, into a deep sleep, but in the end, none of that proved necessary. The door was open.

* * *

The glass panel slid back with a whoosh. Sakura watched as Rider slipped in first, then stepped in after her. She moved to shut the door, but at once thought better of it. The whole room was filled with an overpowering stench – a mix of spiced sweat and decay so thick that they seemed to bathe in it. Leaving the door cracked, Sakura watched as its wafting breeze stirred up a small tornado of dust from a nearby shelf as the thick miasma mixed with the fresher air.

From the inside, she had an even greater view of the full extent of the disaster. The bed, which was pushed into one corner, was also covered in heaps of laundry in various stages of dirtiness. They ran along the wall, down to the foot, where they spilled over onto the floor. Only a small section near the edge was exposed, the blanket turned back to make what looked more like a nest for a wild animal than a place where a human might lay. Sakura made her way across the floor, careful not to step on one of the pairs of dirty underwear – though truth be told in the past she had stepped on much worse.

At first, given the smell, she had seriously considered the possibility that the room's owner might be dead. But as she approached, the girl turned to look at her. For a moment, Sakura's eyes found a sense of kinship as they were greeted by a stare as vacant and hollow as her own.

Outside there was a voice in the hall.

"Ayako, are you all right in there? I heard noises . . ."

The girl continued her stare, as empty and lifeless as ever.

"Do you want dinner? I made curry. It's your favorite . . ."

Sakura detected a small crack in the voice, accompanied by the sound of a muffled sob.

"Here, I'll just leave it in the hall . . ."

There was a sliding sound, of a plate being placed on a wooden floor, and then footsteps leading away.

All the while the girl's eyes never left Sakura's, and her expression did not change.

But that ended abruptly the moment she caught sight of Rider. The instant the purple haired Servant approached, her eyes went wild, and her whole body began to shake with a sudden violence. Before she could scream, Sakura clapped her hand over her mouth.

She and Rider exchanged a look.

There was no time for discussion. At once, Rider set up her Blood Fort. As the barrier went up, the girl struggled for a moment. And then she went limp.

"I'm sorry, my Lady. I did not know if she would remember me."

"It's all right, Rider. Come on, let's check her for a Command Seal."

* * *

"These readings are enormous! Shinji said, watching the way the compass needle moved every time he took a step.

'Whoever is generating them either has a tremendous amount of magical energy, or else they lack the ability to conceal their presence – that or they're a complete novice and they simply don't know how.

'Either way, it's unlucky for them – but lucky for us!" he laughed.

Issei found his over confidence rather distasteful, but he himself certainly had no idea what to do, so for the moment he decided it was best to simply go along.

"One twenty-three Moon Flower street – wait – this is – "

"This is where Archery Captain Mitsuzuri lives!" Issei said, finishing for him. "I recognize the address because her teachers all asked me to send her their homework –"

As Issei spoke, a wild look came into Shinji's eyes.

"- We sent so many letters, but there was never any response. Eventually we stopped trying . . ." Issei trailed off, an idea coming into his head. "Hey – do you think Mitsuzuri could be one of the other Masters?"

His voice was filled with excitement. At last it seemed they were getting somewhere.

But Shinji did not share his enthusiasm.

"I – I don't know –"

"You two were in the same club, and you were Vice Captain – do you think it's possible that – "

"I TOLD YOU I DON'T KNOW !" Shinji shouted, taking him aback with his sudden outburst.

'We were in the same club, but we didn't really know each other. That, and – Mitsuzuri and I didn't really get along very well, so . . ."

"Ohh . . ." Issei said, not certain of what to make of his friend's sudden embarrassment.

"Anyways, it's not like I ever went to her house or anything", Shinji went on hurriedly, "So – wait! I know! As Student Council President, you could say you were concerned, and decided to stop by, and see how she was doing –"

"I don't know . . . We stopped sending letters a while ago. And it's awfully late."

"Come on! You could say that you had some business to take care of, but you were coming by as soon as you could –"

Issei looked up at the third story window doubtfully.

"Maybe we should just go home . . ."

"But the Compass says something is here! This is the best lead we've got!"

* * *

Sakura eased Ayako's limp body back into the chair. They'd searched everywhere – her hands – arms – feet – legs – back – neck – and torso. At Rider's insistence they had even gone so far as to look into her mouth and under her hair, but nowhere was there any sign of anything that could remotely be considered a Command Seal.

"Do you want me to remove her undergarments, my Lady?"

Sakura frowned.

"There's no need for that. This girl is barely in control of her own body. She couldn't possibly control a Servant. There's no way she could be a Master.

'Come on, let's get her dressed."

With Rider's help, Sakura replaced her shirt, and contemplated putting on a pair of pants. It seemed like the decent thing to do, but she wondered what Mitsuzuri would think upon waking up and finding herself more fully dressed than when she went to sleep.

Suddenly Rider froze.

Sakura sensed it too.

"Someone's here."

* * *

So it was that Issei found himself in the hall in front of Mitsuzuri's apartment. He moved his hand towards the doorbell doubtfully.

"Whatever you do, don't mention anything about me!" Shinji insisted.

Issei sighed, and pressed the button.

"If he wanted to be so particular he should do things himself – "

On the other side of the door, he could hear the sound of the bell ringing throughout the apartment.

"What am I going to say?"

As President, he'd given plenty of speeches before to people he didn't know, sometimes about things he knew little or nothing about. In the end, he figured he'd be able to come up with something.

"Maybe I'll get lucky, and no one will answer", he thought, ringing the bell again.

"Shinji did say that there was an unusually large amount of magical energy coming from this apartment", he thought, abandoning the bell and starting to knock.

'And Mitsuzuri-san hasn't been in school for a very long time. Something's off . . ."

Issei tried the door with uncertainty.

To his surprise, the handle turned easily. It was unlocked.

"Nice neighborhood . . ." he thought, staring at the now cracked open door with disbelief. And then he went in.

* * *

On the other side a TV was playing. It was only the evening news, but the sound of it nearly made him jump out of his skin.

"I really am trespassing", he thought, making his way stealthily into the living room.

"Hello . . ?"

Someone was laying on the couch. At first he thought they were sleeping, but on taking a closer look, their sprawling posture clearly suggested that they had collapsed.

"Are you all right!?" he shouted, rushing over. He had no idea how he would explain himself, but there was no time to worry about that now.

"Still breathing, but unconscious . . ." he said, easing the body back down into a more comfortable position. It was a man in his mid-thirties, most likely Mitsuzuri's father.

"Something is clearly wrong . . ."

He made his way around the corner, into the kitchen, where he was greeted by a sudden scare.

"Oh God!"

There at the counter was a woman – probably Mitsuzuri's mother. She was standing at the stove with a spatula in her hand, but her eyes were closed, and she was swaying absent mindedly as one of the pots boiled over.

Unsure if he should touch her, Issei carefully reached over, and turned the burner down, then off. At once the flames went out, and after a moment, the boiling ceased. He checked the stove, and the oven too, just to be sure, but none of the other burners were on, so he made his way into the hall.

A quick check revealed a room with a queen sized bed and two night stands. This no doubt belonged to the parents.

"It's a little small to be the master", he thought.

Beside it was a small guestroom, while on the other side was a linen closet, and a bathroom. That only left one door at the end of the hall.

"This has to be it", Issei thought. He started to knock.

"Mitsuzuri, are you in there?"

No answer.

"Mitsuzuri? Something's going on –"

He tried the handle.

It was locked.

A sudden rattle startled him from somewhere around his feet. Looking down, he saw a plate sitting on the floor.

"What's this doing here?"

There was no time to think about it now.

Examining the lock, he saw it was of a simple design, and one that he was familiar with. They had similar locks on the doors of the temple's guest house. He remembered helping his father once, when one of the monks had taken ill, and passed out in his room. Being a simple interior door, there were no pins or tumblers, only one basic mechanism, so his father had been able to take a screwdriver and open it easily.

Hoping his intuition was right, Issei scrambled back to the kitchen, where he started going through each of the drawers. One held cutlery and utensils, while another was full of measuring cups and accessories for different kitchen appliances. But a third, on the end was full of batteries, miscellaneous cables and old charging cords, and other various junk.

Mixed in along with it he found a small screwdriver, such as one would use for repairing eyeglasses, or tinkering with electronics.

"Man, I wish Shiro was here", Issei thought, racing back to the hall. "He'd probably have the whole door off its hinges by now."

At times like this, Shiro always seemed to know what to do. But there was no use thinking about that now.

Issei rushed back to the door, and fitted the screwdriver to the lock.

It turned easily, the bolt disengaging with a click.

Issei took a deep breath.

"Mitsuzuri, I'm coming in!"

* * *

When Issei opened the door, he was greeted by a strange scene. The sliding doors were open, so that the curtains billowed in the breeze, along with the skeletal rattle of the swaying vertical blinds. The whole room was a strange mix of two atmospheres, as the old stale air rushed out and the new fresh air rushed in. Their collision provoked a wild feeling, their two boundaries marked by a swirling storm of dust.

Ayako sat in a chair, barely decent in only her t-shirt and underwear, her head thrown back, shivering violently from the cold.

"Mitsuzuri!" Issei shouted, rushing over to her.

As he drew close, he caught sight of a strange purple haired figure as it leapt from the window.

Even in his own limited experience, Issei could tell that this was no ordinary human. The lithe movements and flowing, supernatural grace left him no doubt.

"A Servant . . ."

His thoughts were interrupted by a scream.

"Shinji!"

Running to the balcony, he saw that Shinji's outburst had been provoked not by the purple haired girl, but instead by Caster's golems, which were springing up all around him.

"Waugh!" he cried at the strange skeletal forms as they emerged from the ground.

Leaping over the railing, the girl shot out her arm, loosing some sort of chain weapon so that its spiked tip lashed through the creature to Shinji's left, shattering the bones, rendering it harmless.

Without pause, she drew the chain back, letting it pass behind her shoulder, shattering another of the creatures as it snuck up behind her, and then brought it whirling up over her head, then smashing down, into the golem at Shinji's right.

"Rider!" Shinji called, his face warm with recognition as she strode towards him. "Boy, and I glad to see –"

She interrupted their reunion with a swift kick to Shinji's groin.

Issei's eyes went wide at the sickening crunch.

"Rider, why . . ." Shinji asked as he sank to the ground.

For an answer, Rider whirled the chain over hear head again, taking the head off of the nearest monster.

She was bringing it back around for another pass, but it appeared that the next creature had learned something from the death of its companions. Raising its bony shield, it caught the sharp spike flat, knocking it down so that it pinged lifelessly to the ground, and then charged.

Issei felt his own hands tense their grip on the rail. As the skeletal monster bore down on her, it seemed that there was nowhere for her to go.

But without so much as a hint of worry, Rider stepped on the dart, and with a sharp pull at the chain, sent it flying, shearing off the charging monster at the knees, so that if fell midstride.

"This isn't good", Issei said. "She's already destroyed half of our forces . . ."

But even as he said, it, he could not help feeling a certain sense of admiration. There was something about the way she moved – at once forceful, yet dancelike. One of the creatures circled around, trying to get in close, and deprive her of the advantage of her reach. Without flinching, she let the chain wrap around her arm, shortening with each pass, then shot out her elbow, uncoiling it all at once.

The golem fell, shattering amid a skeletal explosion.

Another sought to approach from the side, but she made a similar maneuver, letting the chain wrap around her knee, then shooting it out in a devastating kick, once again shattering the monster before it could get close.

Wherever she moved – her hands – arms – feet – legs – the chain was a part of her, and Issei found himself mesmerized, wrapped up in the swaying of her body.

At the last, the remaining golems formed a united front, charging at her from three sides at once.

The chain grew shorter, and her motions wilder at each pass. It wrapped around her like the bars of a cage, catching first her arms, then her shoulders, and then her neck.

Issei winced as it grazed her forehead, just beneath the line of her purple hair, dreading what would inevitably come next.

But as he watched, Rider stretched out her hands, lashing out with both ends of the chain at once.

In a single motion, all three of the skeletal forms exploded, raining down in bits of bone, amid the graceful flow of her purple hair.

Issei stared, astounded.

And then he realized that their army was gone.

Not wasting a moment, Rider turned back towards Shinji, who cowered as she stalked towards him.

"Hey – Rider – come on – " he pleaded, crawling backwards. "We were on the same side – we fought together – in the last war – don't you remember the last war? Issei – Issei, DO SOMETHING!"

Desperate, Issei did the one thing he could think of.

"HEY! YOU! LEAVE HIM ALONE !"

It was a fine, manly shout, so that for a moment, even Issei was impressed at the way that his voice echoed in the courtyard.

Until he realized that Rider had turned her attention towards him.

Letting the chain slip from her fingers, she twirled it past her shoulder once – twice –

And then she shot it straight up.

Issei leapt back, narrowly dodging as the chain shot up past his face, so that its ringed spike lodged deeply in the wooden soffit that formed the underside of the balcony's overhang.

For a moment he stared at it in horror.

With an unceremonious yank, Rider dislodged the barb and let it fall, three stories straight down, until she caught it, bending the chain in an arc, bringing it up, over her shoulder, and down, to where it met squarely with Shinji's foot.

The dagger like tip passed through his shoe, then through the meat and bone, and then out the other side again, burrowing itself deeply into the earth.

"WAUUGGHH – AUGGHH – GGGHHH!"

Issei gasped.

". . . . ."

A second gasp came from beside him.

Turning, he saw it was Mitsuzuri.

Evidently she had regained some of her wits, for she had put on a pair of sweat pants, and was standing in the sliding door with a blanket around her shoulders, watching the spectacle below with a mixture of fascination and horror.

"You . . . bitch . . ."

Issei recoiled, offended that Shinji would address Mitsuzuri in this way when clearly she herself had been through some terrible ordeal, when turning, he was shocked to see another figure standing on the balcony beside them.

There in the corner was Sakura. She'd been standing in the shadows the whole time, but so quietly that he hadn't even noticed her until now, when she had stepped out into the moonlight.

"Matou-san – "

As Issei turned towards her, a wild look came into Sakura's eyes. Drawing back her hand, what appeared to be a purple ribbon of pure energy formed between each of her fingers, which she used like a scourge, lashing out at him, so that he was forced to leap back, watching in horror as they tore through the side of the building in front of him.

A second stroke downwards, from over her shoulder, made him leap towards the railing, where he tottered for a moment, then tipped up, and over the edge. In desperation he caught the handrail, holding it under his arm as he looked up at her. But he could feel his grip was slipping.

Looking beneath him, he could see that it was three stories, straight down. Even if he managed to hit the grass and clear the concrete patio on the first floor, he had no confidence that he would come out of the fall alive, much less uninjured.

Sakura drew back her hand.

Issei made a desperate gamble, and let go.

For a moment he hung weightless in the air. Then gravity caught up with him. As he began to fall, his feet found the side of the building. Kicking off, he launched himself towards the clump of trees at the corner, where he managed to grab one of the outer limbs. It was too thin to support his weight, but it was enough to divert his momentum, swinging him into the tree where he collided squarely with one of the larger branches.

"OOFH!"

Issei gasped, trying to catch hold of it, but he'd lost most of his senses, and tilted to the side, his back connecting with another branch with such force that he was sure it must be broken. From there it was a blurred cascade, all the way down to the ground where he ended up laying, bruised and battered, and with the wind thoroughly knocked out of him.

"YOU – BITCH !" Shinji snarled, picking an altogether unhelpful moment to find his voice again.

'How DARE you do this to me! Rider was my Servant – MY SERVANT !"

"She was never YOUR Servant", Sakura said coldly.

"That does it! I'll tell Shiro – "

"Shiro?" Issei asked, trying to sit up.

" – I'll tell him everything!"

Sakura's eyes went wide with rage.

Rider held up the tip of her iron spike beneath her chin, and drew it across her neck, then looked up at Sakura questioningly.

"Hey!" Shinji said, panic coming into his voice again. "Wait! I didn't mean it! I take it back!"

Sakura smirked, then shook her head.

Rider lowered the spike to her waist, past her hips, and drew it across suggestively, its bladed tip in line with her groin.

Sakura tilted her head to the side, considering.

"AH! I said I take it back! I take it back! I swear I won't say anything!"

As Sakura smiled, Issei got a chill at just how much she reminded him of Tohsaka, and her fox eyed smile that all of her classmates feared so much.

Sakura shook her head again.

Shinji sighed in relief.

But then recoiled as Rider continued to stalk towards him.

"Hey – wait! Waaiit! She said no, didn't she!? SHE SAID NO – GAAHHH !" he cried, trying to crawl backwards again, shrieking when his foot pulled against the bladed barb that still held it firmly pinned to the ground.

With one swift kick of the chain, Rider dislodged the dart, whirling it up over her head, trailing a shower of blood behind, and then brought it smashing down, onto the body of the golem whose legs she had sheared off earlier.

A quick flick of her wrist brought the spike back to her hand, where she shook off the remaining gore.

"Come on Rider, we're done here."

Rider loosed her dart, shooting it upwards so that it caught the underside of the overhang again. A quick contraction of the chain brought her up, over the railing, where she landed lightly next to Sakura.

At the sight of her, Mitsuzuri, who until then had been calm, began to shake violently, unable to run from a paralysis of fear.

Rider frowned.

Taking the bladed barb, she rested it against the side of Ayako's neck.

"I'm – sorry for what happened to you . . ." she said, "But if it's any consolation", she added, looking over her shoulder, "Your little friend down there didn't do the half of what he'd let you imagine. In the end, he didn't have the guts. Lucky for him, I guess", Rider smirked. "If he had, it wouldn't have been his foot that got impaled."

At her words, Ayako looked up, a certain light coming into her eyes.

"Come ON, Rider" Sakura said, a bit more emphatically, as she sat on the edge of the balcony, bringing her legs up and over the rail, careful to keep her knees pressed modestly together.

"We've lingered here too long."

And with that, she pushed off.

Rider dove, catching her in midair. Using her chain, she swung them in an arc, up, over the rooftop, before bounding away, into the night.

And then they were gone.

* * *

"Ayako, are you all right?"

When Mitsuzuri's mother had come to, she was standing at the stove. The spatula was still in her hand, but the burner was off, and the water in the pan had grown cold.

Checking the living room, she found her husband was still slumbering on the couch.

"The lazy oaf . . ." she thought, lovingly.

It was nothing unusual. Ayako's father usually fell asleep while watching the news every night. But still, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. With a sense of dread, she made her way to the closed door at the end of the hall.

"Is everything okay in there? I heard – noises . . ."

No answer.

There was never any answer.

For over a year, it had been like this. Ever since the police had found her in the alley. The wound to her neck had been small, almost inconsequential. But ever since that night, her daughter, who had once been so full of light and life, the beacon of all her hope, had been different.

With trembling fingers, she reached up, and felt in the dust above the door, until she found the key. Carefully, she took it down.

She had played the scenarios out in her mind a thousand times. Sometimes Ayako would be in bed. Other times she would be lying on the floor. Still others, she imagined finding her out on the balcony, swaying in the breeze . . .

She put the key to the lock, and uttered a whispered prayer.

"Please . . ."

To her surprise, it was open.

But that was nothing next to the shock she received when she opened the door.

There, in the middle of the room, was Ayako.

She was wearing one of her t-shirts, very old and wrinkled, but clean looking, and along with it, a pair of sweat pants. Her hair was still an awful mess, but it was tied back, with one of her handkerchiefs draped over it. It had the texture of straw, but it showed signs of having been recently brushed.

She was holding a bow in her hands, fitting her fingers to the string, and flexing it, all the while humming to herself.

"Ayako . . ?" her mother asked, resisting the urge to run and seize her only because of how weak and fragile looking she still was.

"Tch –" Ayako said, flexing the bow again, noting the motion of its arms, and frowning at the weakness of her own.

"I've been thinking . . ." she said, without looking away. "It's probably about time I went back to school again . . ."

* * *

"You know you're breaking the rules", Rider said.

After they had gotten a safe distance away, Sakura had insisted that she set her down. Rider of course could have carried her all the way home, over the rooftops. It would have been faster, and less dangerous, but Sakura had insisted that she wanted to walk, and as her Master, Rider had no choice but to obey her.

"I'll let Grandfather worry about following the rules", she said, her voice carrying with it an uncharacteristic sense of whimsy as they made their way down the now familiar street.

Rider sighed.

"But you KNOW you're supposed to kill anyone who finds out about the War who isn't directly involved . . ."

Sakura pretended not to hear her for a moment, pausing instead to admire one of the evergreen trees at a nearby park.

"Well" she said, covering her mouth to conceal a yawn. "I guess we'll just have to consider her involved then.


End file.
